


Standing on the Cusp

by Writing_Is_Kismet



Category: General Hospital (TV 1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Elizabeth-centric, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25594405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Is_Kismet/pseuds/Writing_Is_Kismet
Summary: What if a friendship was rekindled between Jason and Elizabeth? Is it even possible for them to remain 'just friends'? Set in Port Charles 2020. Canon Divergent. Elizabeth-centric.
Relationships: Jason Morgan/Elizabeth Webber
Comments: 15
Kudos: 24





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Updates twice a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so first off, I've had a long bout of writer's block so this story is basically me trying to hop back in the driver's seat so don't expect a masterpiece of a story.
> 
> If the characters seem ooc, I apologize. I did my best to try and capture how I believe the characters are, which could very well be wrong.
> 
> I'm a huge Liason fan/stan and definitely have a distaste for JaSam. I was one of those kids who watched soaps because their mom watched them, but I only _really_ started to pay attention to GH when the Hostage Situation happened. I've been a Liason (and also later JoLu) fan since. But when both of those ships sunk in like 2009, I pretty much stopped watching. I think the last thing I saw was when Franco tried to blow up Sam and Lulu back in like 2010 maybe, and I only came back to the show when Steve Burton returned.
> 
> Which brings me to my point: If some of the facts of Liason history in this story aren't quite correct, that's the reason. Although, I did do my best to scrounge up as much info as a I could.
> 
> Also, I'm pretty sure the ages aren't correct in this because Jake was like 10 when Jason returned in 2017, but he's like 11 in this story, so... *shrugs* The ages don't really matter too much in this anyway.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my rocky attempt at writing this super couple! *crosses fingers*

**_Wednesday, August 12, 2020_**   
**_Port Charles Docks_**

Elizabeth takes the last refreshing sip of her drink while gazing out at the gentle rolling waves of the harbor, when her phone rings. She lets out a quiet groan, dreading the possibility of having her break cut short. When she looks at her phone after digging it out of her purse, she’s pleased to see it’s her husband, Franco, and not General Hospital calling. Quickly accepting the call, she brings the phone up to her ear. 

“Hey, where are you?” There’s playfulness in his voice which makes her grin. 

“Finishing up my iced tea on the docks. Why...?” she questions with teasing suspicion in her tone, even going so far as to peer at the stairs on either end of the docks as if expecting him to pop up. It wouldn’t be surprising. 

“Oh! I was actually hoping to meet up for lunch...” She can hear his mood deflating through the phone. 

She slumps a little on the bench. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d finish up with your session so soon, otherwise, I would’ve had lunch at the hospital,” she explains, then perks up. “Tell you what. I’ll grab you a special at Kelly’s and bring it to you. We might not be able to have lunch together, but at least you’ll have something better than what they’re serving at GH.” 

“Hmm...” he seems to think about it which makes her shake her head with a fond rolling of her eyes. “Deal. Thanks, Elizabeth.” She can hear his grin through the phone. 

She stands and heads towards the stairs on her right. “No problem. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay, I love you.” 

“...I love you too.” She ends the call, then stares at the screen for a moment before tucking it away in her purse with a sigh. 

She climbs the stairs and starts the short journey from the docks to the diner. Already she can see the quaint tables dotted along the cobblestone in the distance, which is why, when her feet nearly fly from under her, she blames it on her focus being too fixed on reaching her destination. Luckily, she catches herself before she falls completely with the sharp clinks of the beer bottle she stumbled over announcing itself to be the culprit. 

Huffing as she sweeps her brown locks over her shoulder, she bends to pick it up and feels awareness wash across her skin. It’s a familiar tingling, one that has her heart going before she even looks. It’s not a shock when she spots Jason Morgan in his black leather jacket, black t-shirt, blue jeans, and biker boots complete with the most breathtaking blue eyes she’s ever encountered staring at her from the mouth of the alley leading towards the piers. It’s also, unfortunately, not a shock to see Sam McCall, the petite, provocative, brunette with annoyed dark eyes, who also happens to be the woman he’s in love with, standing beside him. 

Elizabeth does her best to rein in her bucking heart as she straightens up, adopting her perfected aloofness in a blink. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul I saw you together.” It’s kind of against the terms of Sam’s parole for them to be together after all. 

“Elizabeth,  _ wait.” _

She does not wait. In fact, she picks up the pace especially after hearing that stomach fluttering thing he’s always done with her name. No siree, she will not be waiting. But despite her best efforts he reaches her before she can reach the green door marking her escape. She stops long enough to note he’s sans his top heavy girlfriend before trying to step around him without making eye contact. 

Her path is blocked by six feet of muscle, his hands extending towards her arms before dropping to his sides before they can touch her. “Elizabeth—” 

“What is it?” she cuts him off because her heart still hasn’t stopped racing and she doesn’t need her name on his tongue adding to it. Then she feels a little guilty for how rude she’s being and decides, reluctantly, to make eye contact, “Do you not trust that I’ll keep my word? Look, if you want to meet your girlfriend in secret that’s none of my business.” She realizes the irony of that statement silently, remembering that  _ they  _ used to meet in secret too. 

But that was a long time ago.

He scrunches his brows together in genuine confusion. “What? She pulled me into that—It doesn’t matter. I trust you. You know that,” he states this like they’re facts that don’t need to be discussed, softening her towards him unwittingly. But then he goes on. “It’s just-we’re friends, aren’t—” 

“Friends,” her wall slams back into place with added reinforcements.  _ “Right,” _ she draws out with the utmost of sarcasm before pivoting away from him and the flash of hurt in his eyes to grab the gold handle of the door. 

One of Jason’s features is he can be pretty persistent when he wants to be. Though she can’t figure out why he wants to be  _ now _ of all times. She exhales towards the ceiling as he appears at her side, then whispers at him so the patrons don’t catch on. “Friends don’t want their friend’s husband dead.” There’s a very thin space of air between them that’s stirring her blood a little too much, but stepping to the side might cause her to knock into one of the seated customers, so she deals with it. 

“You know my reasons,” he says back just as low, only his voice is colder and deadlier. 

She does know. She even understands. But what kind of wife would she be if she voiced that understanding to anyone but herself? Instead, she takes refuge at the counter where she orders a special at random. She certainly hopes Franco likes the Hawaiian chicken with fruit sauce. 

Jason orders a more reasonable burger and fries, staying at her side despite the  _ go away _ vibes she's emitting. Eventually, his continued presence makes her snap. “Okay, so what? You want to talk to me now? The few times we’ve sat and tried to have a civil conversation, you go all ‘Stone Cold’ when it comes to Franco—” 

“We don’t have to talk about Franco,” he says proving her right with his icy demeanor. “You don’t want to talk about Sam do you?” he counters. 

She looks at him with her chin raised and her eyes narrowed, aware that he has a point, but not wanting to admit it just yet. But he has an unfair advantage of knowing how not to give an inch in a stare down, so she turns away, defeated. She sniffs, “No.” 

Her eyes follow a waitress who isn't bringing her order which gives her nothing to focus on besides the man waiting patiently for her response instead of taking her silence as an answer. So of course this makes her want to spill her guts. “I still don’t get why you’re here Jason,” she tells him a little desperate as she tries to gauge his expression. 

He seems hesitant as he mulls over his words, but there’s a determination that turns up the intensity of his gaze to the far end, then promptly breaks that dial. “You’re the mother of my son and I’ve been thinking lately how you and I don’t see each other as much. We used to be close friends. And I thought that—” 

“You thought that  _ what?” _ she interrupts with a barely contained viciousness as her heart wrenches in her chest. “You finally remembered in the near  _ three years _ since you’ve been back that I’m more than just the woman Franco ‘snowballed’? You thought that you'd finally give me the time of day?” 

He rears back, his eyes displaying his emotions for her to see. Hurt, regret, and yes,  _ guilt. _

She scoffs, disgusted as she sneers. “Well, you can take your charity and shove it Jason.” Snatching out a few bills from her purse, she tosses them on the counter and snags the bag from the startled waitress who just arrived. 

She leaves Kelly’s diner without looking back and Jason doesn’t follow this time. A surgical nurse and a mob enforcer live two very different and separate lives. She decides it’s best they stay that way. 

— 

**_Tuesday, August 18, 2020_**   
**_Port Charles_**

Elizabeth turns her key in her ignition. Nothing. She turns it again with the same results. She slams her fists against the steering wheel as her frustration boils over. She’d just needed to get away for an hour or two after her fight with Franco, so of course this would be her punishment for being selfish and seeking out solace. 

It’s her day off, but instead of spending it at home and getting ahead on chores she had decided to surprise Franco at work. That was her first mistake. As a wife and mother of three staying ahead of things is a must. 

Once there, she had caught him just after one of his art therapy sessions which meant he had about 45 minutes until the next one started. It wasn’t hard to coax him into a less visited supply closet for a quickie. This was mistake number two. Sex at the hospital is never as great as Patrick and Robin had made it seem. 

So her legs were around his waist and his hand was up her shirt, but right before they could commence, he had smugly told her, “This has got to be much better than anything you've done with Nikolas Cassadine.” 

_ Nikolas. Cassadine. _

Mistake number three: Never discuss past sexual experiences right before you’re about to have sex with your current partner. 

Instantly, she had shoved out of his arms and began redressing. He must’ve been talking to Ava Jerome who had a thing for stirring up his insecurities. Nikolas was once a friend - now a mere acquaintance - and it had only ever been sex for her when it came to him. For Franco to bring  _ that _ up. 

He had of course tried to stop her. “Wait wait wait,  _ don’t go! _ I just meant t-that even though he’s been trying to win you back you-you want me.” 

She had tugged her pants on faster. 

He had tried again. “No, wait! Ava was telling me this-this funny thing about how you might be fantasizing about him while with me and—” 

She had practically leapt towards the doorknob, but he'd caught her arm before she could escape. 

_ “Wait! _ Are you really going to leave right now?” 

Right now as in with his pants unfastened and his erection wrapped and ready to go. 

Her grin had twisted into something vindictive. “I don’t know. I might start fantasizing about Nikolas and we wouldn't want that.” Snatching her arm out of his grip, she had stormed out. 

She had drove without a destination in mind, but somehow ended up at the edge of town where a house she hadn’t been to in years resided. After digging out the key from her glove department, she was shocked it still worked and even more so when she entered and discovered everything was exactly the way she remembered it - albeit a little dustier. 

It being a safe house meant her art supplies weren’t necessary, and yet, they had still been there. Canvases, paints, sketchbooks, pencils, paintbrushes,  _ everything. _ And she had taken advantage. Sketching on the couch they used to cuddle on had been surprisingly freeing and allowed her fury to bleed away. Which of course would mean that the universe needed to do something in order to regain balance. 

Stopping her car a quarter of the way back home would do just that. 

This particular road is less traveled - it’s heading towards a safe house after all - so she doesn’t worry when she shoves the creaky door to her Toyota wide open and marches to the hood. Popping it open, she stares at what’s under it in the glaring sunlight and discovers that no amount of will power is going to make the insides of a car make sense. Kicking her bumper with her wedged sandal clad foot, she walks back to the driver’s side with slumped shoulders, dreading how much it’s going to cost for a tow and to fix whatever is wrong. 

As she fishes out her phone, she hears the thundering rumble of an approaching motorcycle and everything in her freezes. She knows it’s him long before he nears - the odds of another motorcycle driving up this path are slim after all. She just prays he doesn’t know where she was coming from. Hell, she hopes he just passes her on by. Outside of their son, Jake, she's kept encounters with Jason Morgan since that day at Kelly’s to zilch. 

But the universe is still seeking retribution, so, upon noticing her, he parks right beside her car. She sends a mental  _ fuck you _ to the heavens. 

Jason walks up to her side, looks towards her hood, then offers her a tiny, unearned smile especially with the thin look she’s giving him. “Car troubles?” he asks unnecessarily. 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah. You can leave. I’m going to call a tow service and have a mechanic look at it,” she dismisses him. 

His eyebrows bunch together and he raises his hands as if to halt her. “Why? I can take a look at it for you.” 

She huffs. “I don’t want you to,” she states the obvious and unlocks her phone, determined to get him to leave. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hands fall to his hips. “Okay… Can you at least tell me what you were doing way out here?” he asks in a gentle probe she is not expecting. 

Her eyes flash to his as her mouth opens and shuts uselessly. 

His eyebrows raise and what can only be described as a fond smile softens his mouth. 

She feels her cheeks flush and blames it on the heat of late summer. Her heart skipping a beat she has no explanation for. To hide it, she locks her screen and gives him a petulant glare. “Fine. You can look at the car.” 

He nods and brushes past her, causing her breath to catch. The brief feel of hard muscle, and a whiff of leather and  _ man _ overwhelms her senses. She physically can’t move as she feels her flush spread and her belly flood with heat. 

“Do you have any tools with you?” he calls out and she jolts, realizing she'd stopped breathing. 

“Uh, yeah,” she clears her throat. That sounds much too husky for her taste. “Let me get them.” To the back trunk she goes where the untouched box sits. She hefts it into her arms and makes it all of two steps before Jason is there lifting it with ease from her arms. 

He looks down at it, his eyes practically glimmering in the sunlight they're so bright. “What’s in this? The whole auto shop?” There’s laughter in his voice and smile. 

She pinkens further which is understandable of her pale skin in the sunlight. But to make sure there’s no misunderstanding, she crosses her arms and says rudely, “My husband made sure I had everything I needed in case I ran into someone who knew what they were doing.” 

His humor fades, but he doesn’t ice off like she expected. He gives a short nod. “That’s smart.” 

She blinks, staring at his back as he rounds on the front of her car. Then she makes a show of looking around as if expecting something to jump out. 

He pauses with his hands braced on her car. “What is it?” 

“I’m trying to see if the world is ending because you just agreed with Franco.” 

He shakes his head, chuckling.  _ “Brat.” _

She giggles unexpectedly at the affectionate term she hasn't heard since she was well 18 and a brat. The smile is hard to remove from her face even when he looks at her with a touch of accomplishment slanting his grin. She winds up leaning against his bike and idly stroking the leather seat, momentarily pulled back through time when he used to take her riding on the cliffside roads. She peers at him from under her lashes, feeling her hair trickle over her bare shoulders. “Do you think you can fix it?” 

He’s already tinkering with something inside her car, but pauses at her question. He looks up and seems to think about it with a blank expression. “Yeah,” he says simply before turning his attention back downward. 

She snorts unable to hold it back and sees him fighting back a grin. God, he knows she loves his dry remarks. She swears he only does it when he wants to make her smile. 

_ That _ sobers her up real quick. 

He almost made her forget herself, but she refuses to be swayed by attempts at humor. Pulling her hair up in a messy bun as the heat starts to fester, she redoubles her efforts to give him the cold shoulder. 

“How have you been?” He disregards her plans, breaking the silence. 

She considers ignoring him, but her eyes land on quite a distracting sight: the hug of his jeans to his rear. He’s bent over further under the hood and it's in prime view, begging to be ogled at. No matter how much she tries to remove her gaze it lingers, and she finds her tongue stumbling over her words, perhaps to aid in her sinful deed. “I, um… Jake has been enjoying the-the art day camp he’s been attending this summer. And… Aiden he—” 

“No.” 

Her eyes so snap to his face at this, feeling beads of sweat rolling down her nape as she worries he’s caught her leering. 

He’s not looking at her with reproach, but with a gentle light in his eyes. “I mean, I want to hear about them too, but I meant you. How have  _ you _ been?” 

Her stomach swoops, and she starts fanning herself with her hand. 

He points at the bag attached to his bike. “There’s some water in there.” 

She gives a quiet thanks and quickly turns away to get it. There is water, already opened. Though it doesn't really help her cool down in the slightest to have her mouth touch where his has before hers. She’s used to defaulting to talking about her kids with that question - people usually want to know about the family unit. It's so nice to be seen as an individual. 

She rubs her knuckle against her moistened lips and edges closer to him. “Work has been a pain lately. There’s this new nurse, Teà. She’s  _ exotic _ and  _ talented, _ and has picked me to try and prove she’s better than in order to impress Epiphany,” she grumbles and starts pacing. “It’s stupid because I know it won’t work, but I can’t help but find it really irritating.” 

“That’s understandable. You’re the best surgical nurse GH has to offer. She should know she’s wasting her time,” he says in an almost distracted tone. 

But she turns to find he’s anything but distracted. His focus is on her, his eyes filled with something her mind can’t decipher but her body recognizes in the way her thighs press together. She physically turns to face the road ahead, convinced she’s seeing things. He’s in love with  _ Sam _ after all. 

She laughs off his statements though it comes out a little nervous. “I  _ cannot _ wait until fall comes. You’re lucky,” she points out, not seeing a drop of sweat on him. “You hardly even register it. Me, I look like a sweaty mess right now.” 

“You look beautiful.” 

She faces him with wide eyes and her heart in her throat as he stands free of her car. His expression is shy, even hesitant, but clearly honest. 

Her brain sputters, trying to make a connection with her mouth. She’s relieved when something intelligible springs free. “A-are you done with the car?” 

He looks down, relinquishing her from his hold to close the hood and put the tools he used back in the box. When he lifts the box and heads for her trunk, he appears uncertain about something. “Yeah… I was finished about five minutes after I started.” 

No, not uncertain about something. Uncertain about her  _ reaction. _ Being doused in ice water wouldn’t make her feel as cold as she does now.  _ “Five minutes?!” _ she repeats in strained disbelief, chasing after him. “What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

He shuts her trunk, not looking at her. “You didn’t ask,” he mutters and his jaw visibly tenses. 

Her heart withers in her chest and her words turn toxic as she spits, “A lie by omission.  _ Why am I not surprised?” _ She tosses his water bottle at him, wanting nothing more to do with him. 

He snags it from the air and explodes.  _ “It was the only way to get you to stay, damn it!” _ He leans into her space, heated and unyielding. She doesn’t back down. “You’re making this difficult,” he continues quieter, but just as earnest, “And I deserve it. But I won’t quit. Your friendship is worth fighting for Elizabeth.” 

The jagged ice inside her melts at his words, but she doesn’t let him know. Instead, she backs away from him, and slowly makes her way to her car in what seems like a daze. She gets in, feeling off centered and unsure about everything. She sees Jason move to his motorcycle and watch her through her window. There’s a tinge of sadness in his eyes, but his tiny smile is brimming with kindness and understanding. 

She starts her car up without an outward reaction, trapped in quiet introspection. 

By the time she gets home, she’s drained but privy to one thing: In spite of everything, Jason is close to tearing down her walls again. 

And that  _ terrifies _ her. 

— 

**_Thursday, August 27, 2020_**   
**_General Hospital Rooftop_**

Elizabeth leans against the edge, the rough texture harsh against her bare arms, but she doesn’t move. Her hair tickles her cheeks as it sways gently in the tepid breeze. She takes in the sea of buildings that make up the small city. Their black silhouettes clipped by fiery orange extending into pasty blue, creating a sunrise that resonates inside her. She feels like she’s on the cusp of something just like this new day, only she won’t achieve it in a matter of minutes. Even so, this feels like something worth waiting for, whatever that something may be. 

Her eyes don’t stray from the dawn of a new day nor does the distant sounds of traffic or wind change, but she knows she’s no longer alone in the way her skin prickles. “I like to come out here in the morning sometimes. It’s peaceful,” she tells him softly. 

He takes the spot beside her, his elbow creating little sparks against hers as he leans on the edge.  _ No leather jacket today, _ she muses. 

He doesn’t say a word, just existing with her in this moment, not pushing for anything more than her company. It makes her throat tighten with emotion, because she's missed him in her life more than she’s allowed herself to think or feel. 

Before she’s swept up in tears, she goes for a distraction. “What I wouldn’t give for a canvas and paints right now,” she confides, half serious while turning to look at him for the first time. 

Jason meets her eyes and his expression is familiar, filled with keen fascination as if every minute thought, feeling, or word she speaks matters. It takes her breath away. “What’s stopping you?” 

“I have a full time job and three kids,” she tries to explain away. 

“You have a husband too,” he points out, not meanly or with scorn, just as a simple fact. She has a partner who should be able to help and support her interests. 

When she feels the stinging of tears at the backs of her eyes, she walks a little ways from him in what she hopes isn't too suspicious. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like I was ever a real artist or anything,” she says in a passably even tone. 

She feels him close the distance between them again, but she keeps her head turned away. “Who-who told you that?” 

“No one.”  _ Franco.  _ She bites her lip and prays her eyes don't appear too wet, because eye contact is a must if she wants him to believe her half-truths. “It’s true, I was never really able to create art that really expressed how I felt,” she shrugs and pastes on an unbothered smile. 

He remains unfazed, seeing inside her the way no one else can. “What about  _ The Wind _ ? You have so much potential Elizabeth—” 

“You were the only one I showed that to and you can’t really see it, so how do you know that’s true Jason?” she demands not at all taking a dig at his brain damage, but rather stating a simple fact as well. She needs to put an end to this, because she’s too exposed to him right now, and she can’t be that way with him. It’s too much. Her heart will want more. 

But she’s literally backed into the corner of the roof and he’s inches from her, not giving up on her. “Elizabeth, you helped me see it. You help me see a lot of things I normally wouldn’t,” he tells her gently, casting his gaze to the skyline for a moment before finding his next words. “Your dreams are just as important as anybody else's... And I still believe in them.” 

Two tears fall down her cheeks before she can even blink, and she wants nothing more than to fill the space in his arms where she knows in her heart she belongs. 

But she can’t. 

“I’m sorry, I-I have to go,” she gasps, pushing around him and running away. Away from the way he makes her feel. Away from what they mean to each other. It’s impossible for them to be  _ just friends. _ In the beginning, that’s what they were, but after she found him shot in the snow all those years ago, there’s always been a want for more between them. 

And she’s been forced to learn the hard way that more with Jason is not in the cards. 


	2. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this story plotted out to be about 13 chapters, so there's that.  
> Anyway, here's the next part!

**_Monday, August 31, 2020_ **  
**_General Hospital 10th Floor Nurses’ Station_ **

The kiss is normal - a balance of acceptance, gratitude, and a pinch of love to tie it all together. Her kisses she shared with her husband have always felt the same, albeit with more passion on the nights they fall into bed together. It’s a familiarity she’s grown used to, one that is safe. One that she has long since accepted. 

The zing of sensation that zips down her spine and raises goosebumps across her skin in awareness is familiar too in a far different way. 

Breaking her kiss with Franco, Elizabeth slides her gaze over his shoulder, knowing before their eyes even connect who's stare she’ll see. Jason looks at her blankly, and she’s, once again as she has for the past four days, brought back to their moment on the rooftop.

The once warm and comforting embrace of Franco teeters on the edge of stifling. She does her best not to flinch at the peck on her cheek that reeks of possession when his gaze finds where her attention has drifted off to. 

“I’ll see you at home,” he adds in boyish glee with a grin to match. 

She nods, eyes finally shifting to unremarkable brown orbs with an agreeing smile. “See you.” She slides her arms from around his neck, turning to walk into the nurse’s station all the while watching his departure from the corner of her eye. His path takes him past Jason, who may as well have become a stone sentinel for all the life he’s exhibited since the moment their eyes locked. 

Only when Franco has disappeared around the corner does a fraction of his rigidness seem to fade. Elizabeth drops her gaze to a teal chart she picks up, not wanting to watch his approach. No, the ever growing buzz across her skin is more than enough to alert her to his arrival at the station. 

“Hey Elizabeth...” 

Her heart jolts at the unique infliction of her name only he’s ever used, sending her handwriting from a smooth flow to a shaky legible which she cuts off before it gets any worse. Inhaling, she chances a glance up into his eyes through her lashes and winces inside. Despite his warm address, his eyes are guarded, no doubt because of the visual reminder of her relationship with Franco. She looks back down at the words on the page before her that may as well be gibberish for all the sense it’s making right now. 

“Hey Jason, is there anything I can do for you?” The words taste like plastic on her tongue with how formal she sounds as if she’s speaking to a stranger and not the man she’s known inside and out for nearly half her life. The inherent _wrongness_ of the situation has her gingerly placing her chart and pen down in hopes of steadying her hands as she awaits his answer. 

“It’s a... It’s about Franco.” 

That snaps her head up. There’s venom suddenly flowing in her veins she recognizes as the knee jerk reaction to defend her husband. Distantly, she wonders when one man became more important than every other relationship in her life. Though that’s swallowed within the caustic storm fueling her emotions and her every word. “What about him Jason? I thought we agreed to disagree on this?” 

His nostrils flare and his jaw tightens, but he keeps an even tone. “We have, but Elizabeth, I don’t think—” 

“Cameron loves him. Aiden loves him. _Jake_ loves him.” It’s a low deliberate blow and he flinches back, his eyes becoming glacial. A tiny voice in the back of her mind tries to get her to see how much like an insane shrew she sounds towards the man that’s never judged her, always listened, and has only ever wanted her to be happy. Instead, she continues to lash out. “Franco is the only stable and reliable father they’ve had. What more could you possibly say to try and take that from them?” 

He stares at her for a long silent moment, then shakes his head casting his gaze away from her. He takes a step back. “Sam was right. I shouldn’t have come here,” he mutters. 

_He’s retreating. Don’t say another word. Shut up!_ “Right... Sam who’s risking two years in prison away from her kids all because you can’t stay away from her,” she scoffs, a viscous smirk curling her lips. “I see where your properties lie.” 

His eyes flash to hers, and, for the briefest moment before their walled off behind impenetrable ice, she catches the forefront of his emotions. 

_Devastation._

“I’ll take care of this myself.” His tone clipped, Jason storms towards the elevators. 

The button is pressed. The ding sounds. He slides into the silver walls, all while she watches with a swollen throat. Her chest aches something fierce and she seeks his gaze with desperation through the closing doors, but he refuses her by keeping his head down. The doors seal off and Elizabeth finds she can barely breathe. Her ears roar with her frantic heartbeat. _What have I done? Why do I keep doing this?_

“Nurse Webber, what on earth is going on here?” Head Nurse Epiphany, and one of the few friends she has left, demands as she strides into the station along with a few other nurses on duty. 

Elizabeth snatches up two charts and makes a beeline away from the elevators. “It’s nothing,” is all she can manage past the knot wedged in her throat. _It’s over,_ she adds silently. 

She makes it around the corner where she pauses long enough to tilt her head towards skyward, willing away her blurred vision with deep shaky breaths. _It’s for the best. We can’t be friends. You know that._

When her anguish is buried deep enough to where she can at least pretend it never existed, she throws herself into her job and away from the shards of her relationship with Jason strewn across the floor. 

—

 **_Friday, September 11, 2020_ **  
**_Webber-Baldwin Living Room_ **

“Jacob Martin get your butt down here! Your bus will be here in less than ten minutes!” Elizabeth calls sharply with hands on her hips and eyes trained on the stairs. 

“I’m coming mom! I just need to find my homework!” Jake shouts back, and she rolls her eyes skyward. 

“I swear that boy has all of my scatterbrained-ness and none of his father’s order,” she comments under her breath, feeling the ache within her heart give a mournful pang in doing so. It’s been over two weeks without a single glimpse of Jason, even with his twice a week visits with their son. _Would an apology even help at this point?_ she wonders. He was about to remind her again of how much her husband is supposedly bad news in spite of how much Franco has changed. 

It’s the same old song and dance she can no longer participate in. If Jason is determined to avoid her, she’ll let him. His promise to keep fighting for her friendship is fiercely ignored.

She kneels beside her youngest who’s sitting on the couch. “Are you sure you’ve got everything, Aiden?” She helps him zip up his backpack, tilting her head to meet his doe brown eyes. 

His answering grin shines in his eyes, warming her heart. “Yeah, mom! And don’t forget my new friends, Andy and Layla, are coming over for a sleepover.” 

Her smile stretches into her cheeks. “Of course I won’t forget, baby. I can’t wait to meet them.” She’d been so worried about him with the start of his fourth grade year, it was almost like he’d regressed back to when he was being bullied the year prior. But about a week ago he told her he'd made a new friend, and just this week said friend helped remind him that people will like him for simply being himself. 

Aiden springs from his seat, snapping her from her thoughts as he gasps, “I almost forgot the oatmeal raisin cookies!” 

“Got’em right here, big guy,” Franco states with a grin, coming from the kitchen with the saran wrapped cookies in hand. 

She stands to her feet as Aiden rushes to get them. “Thanks! He said he didn’t have a favorite, but I thought he might like these ‘cause he doesn’t look like a sweets person,” he explains while placing the cookies in his backpack. 

Raising an eyebrow towards Franco, her eyes drift down to her little boy. “Are you talking about Andy...?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah. Andy loves sweets.” 

Franco lowers to his haunches, catching on to her line of thought and asks, “Your first friend then? The one who helped you out? Why don’t you invite him over too?” 

Again, Aiden shakes his head. “He said it would be a bad idea.” 

Puzzled now, Elizabeth sweeps her hand through his soft brown curls, making sure he’s looking up into her eyes. “Well, what’s his name, sweetie? Maybe I can pick you up from school today and assure him that it’s no problem at all if he wants to stay over.” 

Footsteps thunder down the stairs, Jake’s frenzied shout stopping Aiden short of answering, _“Mom, the bus!”_

Both boys dart towards the door, she and Franco on their tails. She squeezes in a quick kiss to both their heads. “I love you. Have fun at school!” 

“Love you too! Bye mom! Bye Franco!” they say together before dashing towards the yellow bus. 

Once it pulls away from the curb, she turns towards Franco who’s lowering his hands from his wave. “What do you think that was about?” 

He shrugs one shoulder, then winds an arm around her own, guiding her back inside. “I don’t know. But what I _do_ know is that I should probably pick up a little extra tonight, just in case.” 

Not having any better ideas on the matter herself, she agrees. Grabbing her phone from the coffee table, she slips it into her purse, then turns back to him. “I’m heading off to work now.” 

“Yeah and I’ve got a commission to work on.” He gathers her close into the woody aroma like that of a new tin of charcoal pencils surrounding him, his hands encircling her shoulders. “I love you.” 

Her heart doesn’t race, a fact she’s learned to be content with. “I love you too,” she expresses deeply from the small corner of her heart that belongs to him, turning her face up to accept his kiss. 

—

 **_General Hospital Parking Garage_ **

Taking a long sip of the hot chocolate mixed with a shot of coffee, Elizabeth strolls through the silent garage. She assisted three surgeries, was puked on twice, and had to see an older patient pass on. Saying she’s exhausted would be an understatement, and her day isn’t close to being over. She takes another drink, savoring the fuel. 

After checking her phone to be assured Cameron made it to his friend, Trina’s, house where he’ll be spending the weekend along with Joselyn Jacks, she rounds the column leading to the section she parked and stops short. Standing by a sleek black SUV several cars down from her beaten blue Camry is Jason. Tingles spark along her skin, livening her up more thoroughly than the caffeine in her drink. He looks up from his phone, his eyebrows shooting up, as surprised as she is. 

Then he slips his phone into his jean pocket, tucking his hands into them too, his posture going stiff like he wants to move but he doesn’t chance it. Six feet of pure muscle and he looks prepared to have his head bitten off by her five foot three petite frame. Her heart clenches and her stomach twists in knots, the feeling of _wrongness_ like ash on her tongue. She had wanted a chance to apologize before. Well, the gods have just handed her a gift she’ll gladly take. 

Sidling up to him, she offers her best _I-mean-no-harm_ grin. “Hi, Jason.” 

His returning smile is slight but beautiful nonetheless, and when his shoulders round, his eyes softening around the edges, her constricted chest eases. “Hey, Elizabeth,” his tongue caresses her name, unwittingly sending her heart racing before he nods to the nearly forgotten drink in her hand. “Let me guess. Hot chocolate?” 

She hums, lips pressing together in a failed attempt to hide her growing smile. “Close. There’s coffee in here too. After the day I’ve had and the evening I’m about to endure, I need this,” she confesses before indulging in more chocolaty goodness. 

When he raises an eyebrow in question, she further explains, “With Cameron spending the weekend with Trina and Joselyn, and Jake spending the weekend with you, Aiden invited some friends over, so I’m going to be entertaining a house full of children tonight.” There’s no real angst in her voice with how pleased she is with her son. 

His smile broadens and his eyes twinkle under the fluoresces. She steps closer without thought. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m glad to hear Aiden’s doing okay.” 

Nodding her head, she takes a breath of leather and _Jason_ scent for courage and tucks her hair behind her ears. “Listen Jason... about what happened at the hospital—” 

The pale blue lights in the garage flicker, then go out. The sudden darkness silences her. She hears the faint pad of footsteps, sees a line of red like a laser pierce the blackness... 

She’s flying backward to the ground under a heavy weight, her drink splattering somewhere behind her. The wind is knocked out of her when they land with his hand cushioning with her head. But her mind is stuck in idle, unable to process, until she hears a soft zip through the air and the sharp plink of a bullet ricocheting off cement. 

_That was aimed at me._

Her heart surges upward, her breathing escalating as Jason hauls her up and drags her to the side where his bullet proof truck resides. Footsteps pound against the pavement before he’s made it two steps. Hands grab her and yank at the resistance of Jason’s hold on her, unlocking her voice in an instant. 

_“Help!! Somebody help us!!”_

_“Damn it, leave her alone! Let her go!”_ Jason roars as the sound of more people approaching compete against the pounding of her heart in her ears. 

Ultimately the sickening thud of metal against flesh wins out. 

Jason buckles with a groan, his hold slackening, and she screeches. _“JASON!”_

_I can’t see, what’s happening? Oh god please._

Snatched away from him, she immediately throws her weight back like he taught her, tilting her captor off balance enough to send them toppling backwards. She rolls and tries to leap back to her feet, but more hands grab her and she begins thrashing and howling Jason’s name as tears wet her cheeks. _I can’t see him. I can't see anything. Oh god, oh god._

She hears his weak call of her name before a hand is pressed over her mouth and the prick of a needle is felt in her arm. She slips into unconsciousness soon after. 


	3. 2

**_Location Unknown_ **

When Elizabeth regains awareness, the first thing she notices is how chilled she feels. It’s much colder than a typical early fall evening. Upon dragging her eyes open and seeing darkened beams stretching across an unfamiliar roof above her, the floodgates of her memories burst open. 

She bolts upward into a seated position looking over herself in the gloom to see the navy blue scrubs and long sleeved undershirt wrinkled, but still in place. Not yet satisfied, she internally searches for any aches or soreness that could indicate one of her greatest fears having happened again. Other than the pain in her inner elbow, she feels nothing of the sort, causing her heart to calm enough for her to focus outward. 

There’s a warmth beside her, luring her gaze to Jason’s prone form. She turns towards him with a gasp, feeling cushioned springs dip under her knees. Pressing her fingers to his neck, his heartbeat reaches out to her steady and even. She slides her hand down to his chest, feeling it expand and contract as well. She feels some of her tension fade, until she recalls he was struck at least once. 

Leaning up towards his face she mutters, “What I wouldn’t give for a little light,” as she wishes to check his pupils. Instead, she sets about slowly guiding her fingers along his skull. The soft locks of spiky hair easily part for her inspection and in no time she feels a lump at the back of his head. Her mind reels at the feel of it however. It isn’t large and inflamed like it happened within the past few hours, more like it’s had a few days for the swelling to go down. She feels a little dizzy. 

_How long has it been?_

Shaken, she carefully draws back, but freezes at seeing piercing blue focused on her. Her pulse ticks upward and words fail her. 

He studies her in that achingly familiar way like he can peel back her exterior and not only know what’s on her mind but understand her too. “How am I?” His voice barely disturbs the air between them. 

She leans away from him, feeling a blush nip at her cheeks, and does her best to remember she’s a happily married woman and fought hard to get that ending. “You tell me. Any dizziness, blurred vision, or confusion?” 

He sits up, seeming to consider her question as he tilts his head from side to side. When he meets her gaze, he gives a faint shake of his head. “No.” He proceeds to roll up the sleeve of his navy blue shirt, exposing his inner elbow. She leans close to better see, running her fingertips along the inflamed area. “But I do have this.” 

“An injection site. I’m pretty sure I have one too,” she whispers. Flicking her gaze up to his, a hint of fear tinges her voice. “Jason, what happened to us?” 

He climbs out of the bed and pulls out the glock from where he keeps it tucked against his back, checking the magazine and some of her worries spill free. “I mean, I know we were kidnapped, but they tried to kill _me_ first. You and I are rarely seen together nowadays, so why would an enemy of yours try to kill me?” 

The weapon is hidden once more as his eyes settle back on her. “I think Cyrus Renault was behind this.” 

“The kingpin that just got out of prison...” That at least makes sense. 

She scoots to the edge of the bed, wanting to explore their surroundings, but his next words halt her in her tracks. “And I don’t think you were the intended target.” 

Slowly climbing to her feet as something reaches into her chest and begins to _twist,_ she faces him, trying to read his expression through the gloom. “What do you mean?” she phrases her words carefully.

He rubs his brow where the faint scar from his accident ends - an old nervous habit. She knows his answer before he admits it. “They most likely mistook you for Sam.” 

She gives a sharp nod of her head. “Right, so I was kidnapped, leaving my kids and husband undoubtedly worried sick because I was mistaken for your girlfriend who you're not even supposed to be seeing!” she exclaims with a tinge of hysteria to her voice. She thrusts her fingers up into her hair and squeezes her eyes shut as she visualizes each of her boys and how scared they must be for her. 

At the heavy thud of his biker boots approaching, she drops her hands and shoots a fierce glare his way. 

Jason rightfully halts where he stands with his fingers flexing and his eyebrows creased with guilt. “I’m- _I’m sorry.”_

She turns away from him, refusing to let the sincerity of his tone sink in just yet as her anger continues to bubble and boil beneath the surface. She chooses to ignore him in favor of examining the room on her side of the bed. From what she can make out, it’s a tiny cabin of some sort, a very dilapidated one at that if the termite eaten gaps between the boards nailed across the windows is anything to go by. At least she knows where the chill is coming from. 

“The day you and I argued, I told Sam we shouldn’t see each other anymore outside of Danny, that we should honor the terms of her parole,” he goes on, filling her silence. “She was obviously upset, but you were right. Scout and Danny are more important.” 

Her anger is beginning to wane not that she’ll let him in on that fact quite yet. So when she shifts from peeking through the gaps in the window at the darkened thicket of trees to brushing past him to search the other side of the room, he follows her. 

“The day we were kidnapped I went to the hospital to apologize to you, but I guess we missed each other.” 

She briefly stops searching the kitchenette of just cabinets and a sink as her heart swells against her will. _He wanted to apologize to me for jumping down his throat. Typical Jason._

Her skin grows warmer as he moves closer behind her. “I ran into Sam though,” he tells her quietly. “I didn’t know she would be there. She tried to get me into a room to talk to me, but I refused. She sent me a message before I could even reach the parking garage. Said there was something important she had to tell me. I guess she got held up. But Elizabeth,” he pauses and the growing remorse in his tone doesn’t sit well with her at all. “If I had just left instead of waiting—” 

She turns around shaking her head, determined to absolve him of his guilt. “It sounds to me like I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” When his lips purse with clear disagreement, she holds up her hand to stop his protest. “Look, if you want to play what ifs, I could’ve skipped making myself hot chocolate after work and been gone long before any of that stuff could’ve happened,” she reasons. 

But when he still doesn’t look convinced, she does her best to swallow her despair and says what she knows will get through to him. “You’re in love with Sam. You’d walk through fire to be with her. If she said she had something important to tell you, I don’t blame you for waiting. _I get it.”_

_I get that I was never worth fighting that hard to be with._ _I get it. I really do._

She turns away before the stinging behind her eyes overwhelms her and starts opening drawers and feeling inside them to distract her from her choking sorrow, feeling foolish. She just needs a few moments to get it under control. Her hands slide through two bare drawers before finding an old box of matches. Her breathing is still choppy much to her frustration and he hasn’t said anything. _Why hasn’t he said anything?_

She squats down and yanks open a stuck cabinet. She thrusts a shaking hand into the darkness where her fingertips graze over curved metal just as a small click sounds. 

She’s jerked back as the deafening slam of metal colliding rattles in her ears. She's frozen for all of a second before terror seeps through her, shaking her frame from head to toe. _Was that a bear trap?_

Jason pulls her into his lap, his warm, rough hands sliding over the one she nearly lost. “It would be a shame if you lost your artist’s touch.” He’s trying to be light for her sake, but so close she can make out the keen fright sharpening his gaze. 

When her vision blurs, she doesn’t fight it. Tucking her face into his neck, she gratefully accepts the warmth and security of his embrace. And, for a little while, as she sheds tears while he strokes her back, she can take comfort in the delusional fantasy that he feels as deeply for her as she always has for him. 

After a time, she feels herself calming and knows she has to pull away, both emotionally and physically. She savors the feeling of his pulse against her cheek, his heart beating against hers and his large hands pressed to her back before gathering the threads of her composure. Edging back with a sheepish smile, she doesn’t have it in her to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I got you all wet.” She uses her sleeves to wipe at her eyes, undoubtedly smearing her makeup. _I probably look like a hot mess by now,_ she groans internally. 

He touches her under her chin for an instant, but it’s still enough to shock a gasp from her, bringing her gaze to his intense one. “I don’t care about that. Are you okay?” 

Thankful for the night for hiding the burning in her cheeks, she answers softly, “Yeah, I’m fine.” She twists her fingers together so she doesn’t do something stupid like brush her knuckles over his cheek. She takes a deep breath, _“Thank you.”_

He nods minutely, his eyes never straying or losing their skin tingling intensity. “No problem.” 

When it feels like she might drown in the mesmerizing swirl of his emotions if she stares for a moment longer, she forces her gaze down at his arms still encircling her. Her hair slips around her, further hiding her flustered reaction. “I was being reckless before. We’re not on vacation. This Cyrus guy is trying to kill us. And from the look of things, slowly and painfully,” she says with a wry twist of her lips. 

“Renault is ruthless.” 

She feels his muscles tense and she starts to move so she can get to her feet. Her stomach swoops when he surprises her by lifting her and placing her on the bed. 

“Which is why I’m going to check the rest of this place out on my own. You stay put,” he orders with a stern stare. 

“Jason... I know to be more careful now. I can help you,” she argues with a deepening frown. 

“You can help me by going over what we know so far.” He doesn’t budge in his decision, and she doesn't fight him as hard as she normally would because her most recent brush with danger still lurks under the surface of her skin. 

After he collects one of the many pieces of lumber scattered about and heads back to the cabinets, she mentally gathers the facts. “Renault tried to send a message to the Corinthos-Morgan organization. Maybe Sam was supposed to be killed and you kidnapped, but when things didn’t go as planned, I guess they changed tactics. We’ve been out for at least a few days, judging from that bump on your head, where they’ve had the time to bring us further up north maybe. And now we don’t know where we are or what he has planned for us.“ Giving their situation a little more thought, she nods satisfied with her answer. “That sound about right?” 

Jason emerges from the cabinet sans the bare trap, but holding what looks like a lantern which he sits beside the matches she discovered. “Yeah. We just have to figure out his plans now.” The match hisses as it comes to life, the tiny flame throwing light across his features and the lantern caked with dust. He lights the wick inside and she ignores his order to stay put by moving closer, feeling more at ease at their dimly lit surroundings. 

He turns to her, transferring the tarnished golden handle to her hand. “If the dust has been disturbed on any of these, leave those alone. I’ll check those out, okay?” 

A little grin shapes her lips at the trust he’s showing her. “Okay.” 

He nods once, then strides across the room from the bed towards what could be the front door, but she focuses on her task at hand. In the end, she finds that other than the places they touched before, the few remaining drawers and cabinets on the bottom are barren. 

At the abrupt drop in temperature and the creaking of the door as it’s opened, her gaze snaps to Jason. She sees his gun in hand, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to go head to head with gunmen. 

“The door’s unlocked and there are no guards,” he states as if feeling her silent question, his focus still trained outside. “It’s not going to be as simple as walking out this door and finding our way home. That would be too easy. There was a reason he dumped us here,” he insists sounding certain as he shuts the door. 

She bites her lower lip, considering this. “Even if we tried to leave, it’s too dark to risk getting lost in the woods. So at the very most, morning is when we should try to have a concrete plan. Right now, we can continue to search this place for any clue as to why we were left here,” she concludes as she turns to lift the lantern towards the upper cabinets and spots a white folded paper stuck to its bottom. Pulling it off as he comes to her side, she begins to unfold it. “Or we can find one right here.” 

With the lantern on the counter she angles the paper so he can read it as well. 

_Mr. Morgan,_

_As you’ve probably guessed, I’ve decided to let Ms. McCall live at the happy discovery of Mrs. Baldwin. She would’ve made a nice substitute being the mother of your first born. But then I thought a game might prove more fun in displaying exactly why I am not to be crossed._

_Astute as you are Mr. Morgan, I’m sure you’ve noticed your seeming freedom and are facing quite the conundrum as to why I would go through all the trouble of kidnapping you only to let you live, as well as allow you to run free. You are right to wonder, and the answer lies in those injection sites you’re both sporting._

_There are a lot of drugs that are known and have been researched, and a great deal more that are largely unknown. Did you know there are even some that can kill a person without any symptoms or traces within a matter of days? My, it would be quite unfortunate if one of you were exposed to such a drug. Luckily, the consumption of one full vial of the antidote negates this drug’s effects. Though, from what I understand, those vials are quite rare. You’d be lucky to get your hands on just one. You and Mrs. Baldwin are fortunate you don’t have to worry about such business._

_But if you did, I’m certain a vial would be closer than you think, and that you would know just who would be in most need of it._

_Best regards_

Her knees become gelatinous and her vision swims as the paper flutters to the ground. “Oh god, _he—!”_ The bed appears beneath her as she tries to pull in oxygen to her suddenly starving lungs. _He’s going to kill one of us. No, not one of us. Jason. There’s no reason to kill me and let him live._ Her throat tightens and her face contorts. She allows herself just one moment where she gives into the terror and heart rending agony of losing him _again._ She feels a hollowness in her chest threatening to crack open and suck her into a place where no one can reach her besides her boys. Wrapping her arms around her middle and curling into herself, tears run hot down her cheeks, a sob burning past her throat. 

Then she hears a crash and jerks her head up to see splinters of wood scattering from the plank of wood Jason hurled against the wall, sees the wild fury oscillating with stark panic in his vivid eyes, and forces her own reaction down. She needs to be strong. 

Rising to her feet and drying her eyes, she approaches him, eying the way he paces like a caged animal wanting to do anything but stay put. Wetting her lips, she stands in his path forcing him to meet her eyes. “Jason, we need to find that vial.” 

He nods instantly, a hand falling to his hip as he bows his head and rubs a thumb across his brow. He clears his throat and tells her slowly, his words soft, “Yeah, we need to find it... so you can take it.” 

“What?” She blinks, lifting a hand to her head, certain her mind is running at a snail’s pace because she can’t process his words. “Either of us could be poisoned. I’m pretty certain it’s you, so I don’t understand—” But she does. The granite set of his eyes as he watches her unwavering. His tone had said it all. She swallows back the urge to be sick. “You don’t care at all if him killing you is the logical— _the right answer._ You’re not going to risk it.” 

He drops his hands to his side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looks away for a beat before turning pleading eyes on her. “Elizabeth... Your boys need you. I- _I can’t risk this._ I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I got you killed. Do you understand?” 

Taking a short breath as she cements what she has to do, she nods. “I do.” She really does. More than he seems to understand. 

He takes a step closer, hesitates for a second before his fingers slide over then curl around her arms like embers to her icy frame. “So you’ll let me do this?” 

Steeling herself, even though her eyes become wet she manages to keep her emotions at bay as she croaks, “Yes.” 

His eyes flood with relief and she's encircled in a strong embrace in seconds. One hand rubs up and down her shoulder blades as he breathes, _“Thank you.”_

She closes her eyes, absorbing his comfort and presses her cheek deeper into his chest as her lie sours in her stomach. She had promised him she would never lie to him again, but this time is justified. His kids need him. _She_ needs him alive. And when she finds that vial first and finds a way to give it to him... 

When they both come out of this, maybe he’ll understand why she had to deceive him.


	4. 3

**_The Next Day, Afternoon_ **  
**_Abandoned Cabin_ **

When Elizabeth wakes up, she feels less than rested, but a little less tired than before. She also knows something is missing. She pulls her head up from the pillow and frowns at the empty spot beside her, recalling what happened the night before. 

Elizabeth runs her fingers along the creases of the logs, encountering cold wood and dust, but no hidden compartments. Slapping her hands against her scrub bottoms to remove some of the dust from her hands, she presses her wrists into her eyes, trying to rub the strain from them. A shiver wracks through her body and her teeth chatter. She takes a deep breath, feeling the tightness in her lungs before she drags her legs towards the box sized room housing a sole toilet she and Jason found not long into their search. They had already gone over every surface within, but another look over wouldn’t hurt. 

“Elizabeth, I think you need to rest. I can hear your teeth chattering from over here,” Jason urges, and practically materializes behind her like a well meaning furnace. 

She tries to bat his hands away from her arms, but lifting them is a chore. She only manages a groan. 

“You’re dead on your feet. Besides, what good would it do for us if you got sick?” he appeals to her sense of reason, guiding her body to face him. 

“Well, I’m sorry. Not everyone is lucky enough to only be affected by extreme temperatures,” she grouses, slurring some of her words. 

He continues to look at her, his pointed stare saying more than words ever could. 

Her shoulders slump, and she sighs in defeat. She feels like every crevice of the pint sized cabin has been ingrained in her mind, the hours of search imprinted into her bones. The pale grey of early morning trickling through the gaps in the boarded windows tells her she’s been on her feet all night. 

She lets Jason steer her towards the bed. 

She kicks off her shoes and burrows under the old wool blanket, feeling marginally warmer and wonders, even in her exhaustion, if she’ll really be able to sleep feeling so cold. The bed dips, and she looks up seeing Jason climbing under the covers. 

He pauses, his eyes studying hers. “Is... Is this okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

Her heart jolts, and she hopes it’s still dark enough that he can’t make out the heat flaring up her neck and through her cheeks. There’s nothing wrong with sharing body heat fully clothed. _Jason is just being kind,_ she firmly reminds herself as she gives him a nod. 

When he pulls her into his arms, she melts against him, soaking in his heat and scent. Her eyes flutter closed. 

The last thing she remembers is falling asleep to the gentle rumble of his voice. 

_“We’re going to find that vial, Elizabeth. I promise.”_

She looks around for him now, getting a clearer view of the dingy cabin in the light of day. There’s really no place to hide unless you’re willing to risk the mile high layer of dust and grime beneath the bed. She bites her lower lip and furrows her brows at the blatant absence of another soul. Curling her fingers in the blanket, she waits a few minutes to see if he emerges from the bathroom before moving to the edge of the bed and shoving her feet into her shoes. 

Already her mind is being overrun by thoughts of what could’ve happened to him - from goons having taken him in the night to him having died alone outside. Racing to the door and yanking it open, she shouts his name into the brisk afternoon. At first, all she sees are looming pines extending upward in every direction she turns. Then Jason is bounding around the side of the cabin, gun drawn and features set in the stone cold glower of mob enforcer. 

She closes the gap between them with swift steps, throwing her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. 

“Whoa, whoa. Hey, what’s wrong?” His free hand presses against her lower back. 

But just as quickly as she threw herself at him, she backs away a respectable six feet. “I’m sorry-I just woke up and I thought... I thought something had happened to you, and I—” She cuts herself off, unwilling to continue. Curling her hair behind her ear and fidgeting with her fingers in front of her chest, she keeps her gaze down, feeling ridiculous for her reaction in hindsight. 

There’s a click as he slides the safety back into place, then a beat before the whisper of his touch under her chin urges her head up. His hand is already back at his side before she looks up, but the faint brush of his fingers remains, dipping under her skin and speeding her heart with ease. 

“I’m sorry I made you worry. I wanted to see if I could find anything outside or even figure out where we are,” he explains in that open, gentle way she’s growing too accustomed to. 

“I feel silly now for overacting,” she tries to explain away in an attempt to honor Franco, who’s no doubt doing everything he can to find her, by keeping an emotional distance with Jason. “But we don’t know how much time is left,” she tells him in a raspy voice anyway, the words seeming to spill free unbidden. 

She has to look away after, hating the understanding that softens his eyes. Hating that if he has things his way, he’ll die needlessly for her. So she stops twisting her wedding ring and turns her thoughts off. She reaches across the distance between them and takes his wrist. “Come on. I know you haven’t eaten anything because you wanted to wait for me.” 

She tugs but he doesn’t budge, forcing her to meet his gaze for answers. But he’s looking down at her hand curled over his wrist. She pulls away with a sinking heart, thinking she’s gone too far. 

His hand captures hers. 

Her pulse double times as he gives a gentle tug, leading her instead. “Yeah, let’s go,” he murmurs and she trails along with her heart cartwheeling in her throat. 

_Get it together Elizabeth. Friends hold hands. Besides, he loves Sam._ That’s more than enough for her emotions to cool and not follow after him like a love sick schoolgirl. 

—

Three jars of jerky, two of peaches, two of strawberries, a bent fork, and another bear trap is what the top cabinets had yielded the night before. Cleaning the jars and fork of dust in the low pressure water is all they had done. Lord knows she couldn’t stomach anything at the time. So she breaks the seal of one jerky jar and hands it to Jason, opening the peaches for herself and leaves a jar of strawberries on the pine dusted grass in front of them. 

She stabs the fruit, considers it for a moment before drawing it into her mouth. She chews for a bit, feeling his stare against her face until she gives in. “It’s pretty good,” she assures him with a grin. 

He flashes her a smile brimming with mirth and she giggles, shaking her head before focusing back on her “meal”. 

They eat in silence for a while, trading off jars. The amber light of late afternoon casts an almost dream-like quality to the surrounding woods. It’s a temporary peace. The crisp breeze brushes over her skin, stirring up her thoughts like tangled leaves on the wind. “‘Closer than you think’. What could that even mean?” she huffs, lowering her forehead into the heel of her hand. “Is it in the cabin or-or did he have it implanted under our skin somewhere somehow?” She sighs and lets Jason take the jar of strawberries from her hands. “At this rate, we could pick a direction and start walking.” 

“Even if we made it home, there wouldn’t be enough time to identify the drug and create an antidote,” he points out reasonably. His knee presses into her thigh when he shifts on the porch, facing her. “Besides, I’m not giving up.” 

Frustration at his need to be a martyr boils over and she snaps. “Don’t you want to see Danny and Jake? Sonny and Carly? Monica? _Sam?”_ He flinches, but remains silent otherwise. She tries again. “Wouldn’t you rather be surrounded by your family and friends instead of an estranged more than friend?” 

Something flits through his eyes too fast to make out and his tone takes on an edge. “I’m doing what I feel is right, Elizabeth.” 

“And I’ve always loved and hated you for that.” The words slip off her tongue. Her heart freezes when she hears them. She bolts to her feet before she can see any changes in his expression, a concoction of emotions too thick to decipher driving her restless movements. “I-I just meant." Her mind comes up blank of excuses and she thrusts her fingers into her hair, tugging at the roots in an attempt to distract her from the sting in her eyes. “God, this is so stupid. I’m still the pathetic woman you met at Jake’s all those years ago.” Her laugh is bitter and she squeezes her eyes shut. 

The grass rustles in his approach. And then he’s right in front of her, his hands hesitant yet warm on her arms. Surprise shines bright in his eyes when she looks up. “What did... What did you mean?” he questions softly. 

A tear trails down her cheek as she decides to throw caution to the wind. “I meant that I’ve always loved how you’re never afraid to do the right thing—” 

“That’s not true—” 

“And I hate,” she continues over him, refusing to lose her nerve - it’s much too late to turn back. “I hate that that trait is the reason we never got married.” 

His throat bobs as he swallows, confusion and something indecipherable whirling in his eyes. “I don’t—What about Franco?” 

She laughs a wet, broken sound and keeps barreling down the road of honesty. “I love him, I do,” she admits with a shrug. “You can love many people, Jason, but I’ve always been hopelessly _in love_ with you.” She licks the salty tears from her lips, studies his wide eyed stare as his hands fall from her arms, and nods her head once. She turns and walks back into the cabin. 

She doesn’t look back once. 

—

The cool water sliding down her throat does nothing to alleviate the raw feeling of exposure she feels inside. She shuts off the faucet with a deep exhale. Watching water droplets trickle down into the drain with an empty stare, her heart weighs heavy in her chest. _Telling the truth was a mistake, not that it’ll matter. Jason won’t leave Sam and... I’m married to Franco._ Her feet just manage to get her to the bed where she sinks into the steady support. 

That’s when Jason comes in. The wild determination in his eyes tells her he’s not going to let this go before he even speaks. He strides across the room setting the forgotten jars on the counter before bee lining towards her. She turns away with a groan. 

“We need to talk about this,” he presses, his heat and scent encircling her in his proximity. 

She jumps to her feet desperate for distance. “Why? Talking about this won’t make a difference!” she exclaims feeling her skin flush with anger at his insistence on drawing this matter out. She faces him from across the room with her back to the door, taking a deep breath. “Look, I fought hard to get some kind of happiness with a man who won’t leave me or my boys. And you-you have the love of your life. Why do you even care—” 

“Sam’s not,” he shakes his head once and shifts with a restlessness visible under his skin, but stays put. “Sam’s not the love of my life,” he finishes in a quiet tone, his eyes refusing to leave hers. 

Her heart leaps, but she bats it down viciously, overcome with a fury so deep she feels it coursing down to her toes. “Don’t you dare take pity on me! You don’t mean that!” 

He crosses the distance between them like it was never there, his eyes ablaze with irritation. “When have I ever said something I don’t mean?” 

“How about when you said you would try with me and then left me alone and ignored me for weeks in your penthouse? And then you shacked up with Courtney two seconds after I walked out the door!” she hisses. “How about when you said you’d marry me and then changed your mind that same day? Any of that ringing a bell?” She shoves past him and his stricken look without a care, wiping at her wet face with finality. “Don’t you dare try and deny she’s the love of your life when you married her, fathered a son with her, and stuck around despite all the supposed danger that wouldn’t allow you to be with me Jason.” 

“Elizabeth, you-you don’t understand,” he says after a few beats. 

She whirls to face him, jaw clenching with her irritation. “What don’t I understa—” 

_“I need you to be alive!”_

She falls silent. 

His presence surrounds her again as he stops a mere foot from her. “I need you to be alive, Elizabeth, even if it’s with somebody else. I need to know that you’re safe and breathing.” He lifts a hand towards her for a second before it falls back to his side. He huffs and runs a hand through his hair, his mouth opening then snapping shut in clear frustration as he struggles for words that aren’t as easy to him as numbers. 

She stays silent and allows him time to get his thoughts in order. She needs to hear what he has to say on his own without any help. 

He closes his eyes with a sigh. When he opens them and looks at her, his eyes are radiant, earnest gems. “I made a mistake I'm going to regret for the rest of my life, okay? I let other people talk me into buying her a ring and marrying her because I owed it to her,” he forces out a breath and edges a little closer, his gaze unwavering. “But you know, I asked you to marry me three times, Elizabeth. No one told me to do it. No one said I owed it to you. _I_ wanted to marry you. That was all _me,”_ he presses his hand to his chest to emphasize his meaning.

Her chest squeezes and her throat tightens up as she struggles to digest the meaning behind his words. She can't let herself hope.

But when his brows come together in this deeply imploring expression, her resolve wavers. “Look, I've had a lot of time to think about my life while watching Mike slip away the way he has. I'm not afraid of dying—”

“I know. You…” she feels herself blush at his raised eyebrows, at the surprise lighting his eyes, but forces herself to continue. “You wouldn't want to be trapped in the in-between. I remember how you felt about Michael when he was in a coma,” she explains while trying to work out her nervous energy through her fingers.

“Right,” he breathes and something solidifies in his eyes like he's reaffirming something he knew all along. “I'm not afraid of dying, but what I am afraid of is having not lived my life the way I wanted. Sam is… Sam likes the danger and loves taking risks. But sometimes she takes unnecessary risks - like with Shiloh and her parole. A lot of the time it feels like she doesn’t think I can be happy if things were calm for a while. And our relationship suffers from that.” He moves until there’s barely a gap between them, his timbre sinking to a belly warming register. “But you and I fit together differently. _Entirely.”_

She swallows hard around her thumping heart. Thoughts dissolve out of existence. “Yeah?” 

His intense gaze drops briefly to her lips, sparking her nerve endings to life. “Yeah. Our relationship never depended on the highs or the lows. I just-I love listening to you talk and ramble. I love hearing how your mind works. I miss our rides together. I miss watching you paint and sing off key.” He raises his hand, cupping her cheek and her eyes flutter shut for a moment. “I miss holding you in my arms and feeling your skin against mine.” 

“J-Jason...” she gasps. She’s certain she must be dreaming, otherwise he wouldn’t be looking at her with eyes darkened with yearning. 

“I never took that risk with you because if something were to ever happen to you because of me... I-I don’t think I could ever live with myself,” he admits in a roughened tone that has emotion welling up in her chest. _“You_ are the one that got away, the love of my life. You said before that you can love many people. I love Sam, but I’m-I’m in love with _you.”_

Tears brim her eyes and she chokes back a sob praying to every god above that this moment is _real._

He cradles her face between warm hands, thumbing away her tears and she can see the truth, _the love,_ in the depths of his gaze. “You were too big a risk for even me to take, but I’m willing-I _want_ to take it, if you want to—” 

“Yes. _Yes!”_

He swoops down as she winds her arms around his neck. She doesn't know what to expect, to prepare herself for. So used to safe, to settling. She's not ready for the brush of his nose against hers as he tilts his head and captures her lower lip between his, gentle and lingering. Turning, he reconnects them, trapping her upper lip this time. Again, pressing harder, their lips lock and mesh and— 

_Oh god._

Her knees buckle but he hooks an arm around her waist, holding her flush to unyielding muscle with the clear intent of taking his time with the consumption of her mouth. Elizabeth’s mind whirls as she clings to him, her fingers curled tight in the back of his shirt, shook to her core by how right this feels, by how much she needs him, by how much she wants more. He dips his tongue between the seam of her lips, stroking her tongue in languid caresses that has her fingers gripping the back of his hair, her sanity slipping as she whimpers unabashedly. His fingers flex against her hip with his rumbling groan, his other hand cupping her jaw, angling her head as he kisses her harder. Her tongue becomes trapped between his lips, the rub and press of his tongue rougher, needier as he devours her. 

Her skin prickles with fire, her hips rocking into him as her lungs pinch with the need for air. She happily ignores them, drunk on his delectable taste and his overwhelming desire for her. But he seems to read her mind. The snap of their lips as he separates them is overshadowed by their heavy breathing. She shivers in delight as he kisses over her mouth while she takes greedy gulps of air like a predator awaiting his opportunity. And swoop in he does when she nudges her nose against his, fusing their lips without preamble. She’s drawn into his mouth by the curl of his tongue where she eagerly takes the chance to reacquaint herself, drinking in his groans that mesh deliciously with her moans. 

Her core pulses and moistens for him, leaving her with a feeling of confinement within her clothes. Driven by the quick beat of her blood, she rubs her body along his, sensual and urgent. His hands move to grab at the back of his shirt and their kiss is broken for the instant it takes to peel it off. Molten need bubbles at the pit of her stomach as she splays her hands over his twitching belly. The taut, warm skin stretched over muscle gives autonomy to her hands as they climb up his torso. Spread over his chest where she feels the pounding of his heart in sync with her own, her thumbs teasingly circle his nipples, pressing firm when they pebble. He shivers, and she nips his mouth, smirking against his lips in utter satisfaction. 

She feels his hands at her back, slipping under her shirt like brands against her skin a moment later. Her knees wobble and she feels his grin in return before he’s pulling both her shirt and undershirt off of her, forcing her temporarily from the kiss. He grabs her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. The moment his skin slides against hers she’s electrified. She whimpers in desperation, scratching her nails across his shoulder blades as she grinds as best she can against his stomach. He grunts, nipping her bottom lip as he walks to the bed. 

He sets her at the foot of the bed and, instead of following her down, she watches through a lidded gaze as he bends down and starts to remove her shoes and socks. Heart fluttering, she looks him over in the mellow late afternoon glow. Lean muscle ripples beneath tan skin with each motion, more breathtaking than any Adonis. Golden streaks of hair dazzle in the sunlight. His expression open and flushed, his eyes shining with lust and a cosmos’ worth of love. He’s beauty personified. Her throat tightens up as she’s hit all over again by the boundless depth of her love for him. She’s overwhelmed once more by this dream turned reality. 

The gossamer touch through her thin bottoms when his fingers climb up her legs invokes a shiver of anticipation, centering her. With deliberate slowness, Jason drags her pants down her legs, never breaking eye contact until they’re tossed to the side. From her elbows, she watches him glide his hungered gaze over her body repeatedly, his muscles tense and chest heaving. She feels her pulse thundering through her body right down to her toes. 

He swallows and flicks his eyes up to hers. “You’re beautiful,” he rasps in pure reverence. 

Her belly tightens and her throat dries. She couldn’t form words if she tried. 

A tender smile quirks one side of his lips up before he kicks off his boots and socks. She tilts towards his weight when he presses his knee into the bed beside her thigh. His fingers skim up her thigh sending electric zings of sensation through her breasts and throbbing core. His hand winds over her hip and splays over her stomach as he boxes her thighs between his knees, hovering over her. 

Her back bows off the bed, her hands fisting the sheets when he bends to connect their lips. His mouth is addicting - strong, stirring kisses that dissolve every thought from her mind. Unfortunately, the kiss is short lived with his mouth dropping to her collarbone. She whines, fingers traversing up his arms and shoulders, ready to pull his mouth back to hers. His short, breathy laugh against her clavicle vibrates through her skin and straight to her sensitive nipples, stopping her short by drawing a startled moan from her. 

That’s when she notices his clever fingers undoing the clasp of her bra. 

Letting him slide it from over her arms, she barely has time to catch her breath before she feels the first firm flick of his tongue over her rosy peak. She gives a sharp shout, one hand delving into the back of his hair, the other grasping his bicep. She quivers beneath him, each swirl and flick of his tongue almost overwhelming as her nerve endings begin to hum. Clamping her hands behind his skull, she shoves his head against her breast and arches her back to press deeper into his mouth. 

He answers her silent need, wrapping his lips around her sensitive peak. Her head falls back and her mouth gapes in a lengthy cry when he sucks her hard like a man deprived. She feels as if stars are combusting under her skin, tingly and burning, the wet ache between her legs throbbing faster and building. Breaking the suction, he kisses his way to her other breast, lavishing it the same way; licking, kissing, then teasingly rubbing his lips over the pebbled nipple before sucking it with a heart stopping intensity. 

Her chest shudders with unbidden noises, her fingers digging into his back as he feasts on her breasts with a zest that sends her pelvis rocking upwards, pressing and grinding against the seam of jeans, the rigid length of his cock. With hastening breaths, her craving for him surges to a feverish degree. 

His breathing fans hot and quick across her chest. She meets his intense gaze, her bones liquifying at the promise held there. He wedges his knee between her legs, spreading them. Her shaking hands reach to unfasten his pants. And after he sets his gun to the side, he helps her, shedding both his jeans and boxers. 

There’s a moment when she’s looking at him in all his glory, looming above her where she wonders if she should feel guilty for the act she’s about to commit. It’s after he lifts her to the head of the bed and gently lies her on the pillows she knows what she feels is at peace - after an arduous journey, she’s finally home. 

Her panties are shoved off her legs and she blankets herself with his body. His steamy skin presses to hers, nothing between them. Meeting in the middle, she swallows his throaty moan, erupting in tremors when she grinds her slit against his cock, ready. 

He breaks the kiss, and her gaze searches his. She knows what he’s asking her with the slight shift of his hips that has her eyes fluttering. Her palm slides from his neck to his cheek with a simple answer. “I love you.” 

His eyes shine before his lips touch hers, breathing his words into her soul. “I love you.” 

Elation swells her heart to bursting. She pulls his face down and slants her lips over his, cradling him between her thighs. Rolling her hips, she mewls into his mouth at the delicious slide of his cock through her folds, stoking the low flames curled in her belly. He pulls from the kiss, their breaths mingling. Her eyes drop to look between them as he shifts, watching him guide his cock to her core while biting her lower lip. In her next breath, he’s sliding home. 

_Ohh god!_

Muscles shaking and eyes squeezing shut, her breath is all but lost. Her lips part around a silken moan, already feeling a pressure building at how full she is, at the feeling of a piece she’s been missing sliding back into place. His groan is shaky, his lips falling to the cleft of her chin and dotting her throat. He drags his hips back, her breath hitching at the dizzying pleasure. Then he’s thrusting, and she’s swept under a tide of indescribable sensation. 

It feels like he’s everywhere at once. Hot open mouthed kisses fall on her jaw, her throat, her shoulders, her breasts. Calloused fingertips dance up her thigh, the tingles driving her hips hard up into his. One hand grasps her trembling thigh, the other stroking her belly, curving to her back, his hands feathering across every inch in reach with an insatiable fervor before tangling in the back of her hair to hold her steady for his kiss. His cock drives into her in wet, demanding snaps sending lines of fire racing up her thighs to the tightening in her core. 

She can hardly catch her breath. Her heart beats frantic thumps against her ribs, her mind reeling at how incredible he feels, wondering how it is she managed so long to go without this blinding passion. Feet pressing into the small of his back, she meets him thrust for thrust set on savoring every moment of this. Dragging kisses across his throat, she sucks on the straining tendons, trailing her fingertips down his hard torso then slowly scratches her nails back up. 

Jason curses hotly before capturing her jaw in his hand, bringing her gaze to his. His eyes are a band of blue around dark pools, glinting with a single-minded focus of working her body to oblivion. Her fingers snap up, curling into his biceps for purchase as she senses a white hot hook beginning to pull taut in her belly. 

Feeling his muscles tense and flex with barely restrained power sparks her fuse. The sheer masculinity of his abs rolling rhythmically against her belly leaves her light headed. Her toes curl. Tension winds her body taut for a second before releasing in ribbons of ecstasy spiraling to every corner of her body. It's so sudden she’s left quaking beneath him, eyes slamming shut as she sinks into the pleasure, falling apart at the seams. Wave after wave ripples through her core, squeezing his cock. He grunts above her, but doesn’t break pace. The aged bed creaks obnoxiously from the abuse. 

She gasps for air as the tidal waves slowly release her, feeling soft kisses pepper her cheeks, eyelids, and nose, her heart skipping. Her eyes fall open, watching his brow set heavy over his eyes in wild determination, feeling the muscles under her hands become steel. Her hips are held down by his hand. In a blink, he begins driving into her like a well oiled piston. Just as quickly as it left, the waves of rapture slam into her harder and deeper than before, elongating her spine as she cries sounds she hasn’t made since the last time they were together. 

Nails digging into his arms as her neck strains, tears of bliss slide down her cheeks. His cheek nuzzles her own, his breathing a heavy mix of, _“Love you so much,”_ and _“So beautiful,”_ effortlessly enamoring her all over again. 

She feels him trembling in her daze, his pace staggering. Her pleasure milks his own as his lips find hers in a sluggish kiss, submerging her in a kaleidoscope of euphoria. She remembers feeling as if she was standing on the cusp, waiting for something - waiting for _him._ Together, at last, she relishes the weightless satisfaction floating between them as they gradually begin to calm. 

His forehead rests against hers as they attempt to catch their breath before he rolls them over. She’s tucked against his side, her head pillowed to his chest as the wondrous chill of early evening begins to wash across her skin, penetrating the heat that surrounded them. Boneless and enveloped, by his heady scent, she’s powerless to fight the pull of sleep, dropping off with the beating of his heart as her lullaby.


	5. 4

**_The Next Day, Morning_ ** **_  
_** **_Abandoned Cabin_ **

Jason had woken her up many times throughout the night, the look in his eyes enough to jolt liquid heat to her core in an instant. They’d made love in the warm glow of lantern light between bouts of conversation, sometimes hard and frenzied until her throat became raw from screaming, and slow and unhurried until it had felt like she would combust from the overload of passion intensifying between them. It had felt like Jason had still been pursuing her even though she was willingly sleeping with him, or like he was determined to solidify the connection they had tried and failed to fight.

It was one of the best nights of her life.

Elizabeth awakens first this time, seeing the glimmering hues of morning light through the boards. The weight of his arm over her waist, his chest to her back, and his chin resting atop of her head fills her stomach with flutters. She feels deliciously sore all over, and deliriously happy, having to bite her lip to try and contain her cheek hurting smile. 

Out of place in her emotions is the burbling tar-like dread rooted in the pit of her belly. Her mind drifts to Franco, wondering if the feeling stems from her broken commitment. Sighing, she brings her left hand up towards her face. Her ring rests on her fourth finger, a forgotten band of vows she chose to break repeatedly. Pinching it between her thumb and forefinger she starts to twist it in a familiar motion. And freezes. 

_Something’s not right._

The rays of sunlight catch the small diamond, but instead of the usual rainbow of reflected light, it looks bright and clear like glass. 

_‘Closer than you think.’_

She nearly jumps up, but wrangles the knee-jerk response down with steel control. She tenses, her pounding in her ears. Jason remains asleep behind her. Taking in a shaky breath, she pinches the faux diamond and tugs. A beat later, it pops free revealing the smallest ‘vial’ she’s ever seen, with a black stopper holding the vital and precious antidote in place. 

Steadying her breathing seems impossible, her hands trembling with urgency. _I have to-I need to give this to him but how?_ Her mind is drawing blanks, too filled with tangled anxiety to think clearly, so she makes the effort to take several deep, slow breaths. An idea gradually takes shape. 

With careful movements, she extracts herself from his hold and the bed altogether, pausing to look at him to be sure of his continued slumber. Dark golden lashes brush his cheeks, his soft mouth set in a gentle pout, and his hair is wildly disheveled from her fingers. The features of what most believe to be a stone cold killer make up the man of her dreams, an invaluable part of her being she refuses to have taken from this world. 

Her resolve solidifies as she stabilizes. Picking his long sleeved shirt up to cover herself in the drafty cabin, she rolls up the sleeves and makes her way to the opened jar of strawberries. She unscrews the lid first, then plucks the vial up from her palm. Pinching the topper off, she takes the red fruit and presses it to the opening. Twisting so that the vial punctures the fruit, she then flips it and watches unblinking as the fluid within is gradually absorbed. 

She stands there for several moments making sure every drop is soaked up. Only then does she remove the vial and place it on the counter. She looks at the innocuous fruit between her fingers. The key to his life in an unassuming shell. Jitters nearly revive under her skin, but she stamps them down as her job is only halfway done. Collecting the jar of ordinary strawberries, she climbs back into bed, purposefully jostling the still occupant. 

His eyes peel open, revealing clear blue, never having been one to experience the grogginess associated with waking up after his accident. When his gaze finds hers, a love stricken smile breaks out across her lips unbidden, the backs of her eyes stinging with the flood of emotion. She forces herself to keep her tears at bay. He sits up, moving into her space with bright happy eyes reminiscent of that of a school boy’s. His beauty never ceases to take her breath away. 

“Hey. How are you feeling?” he asks just above a whisper, voice husky as he brushes his knuckles down her cheek. 

She feels the rapid flush bloom across her face, helpless to stop the way her heart hammers, singing out for him through every vein in her body. “I feel good. Happy. Hopelessly in love,” she breathes honestly. 

His eyes lower to her mouth, his fingers curling behind her ear to cup the back of her neck, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “No regrets?” he rumbles, nose brushing hers, his air becoming her own. 

Her eyes become heavy, tingles shaking every inch of her. “No regrets.” 

Their mouths join like magnets unable to be kept apart for long. It’s perfect. Hot, firm, and consuming. Her thoughts begin to fade until she jerks back with sheer force of will, determined not to be pulled under the shroud of need that now exists unsuppressed around them whenever she’s within so much as viewing distance of him. His brows crease and his eyes filling with confusion especially when she brings the strawberry into view. 

“I thought we could fuel up first,” she rushes to explain. Then lifting the fruit, she starts to teasingly trace the shape of his lips with the tip, her eyes meeting his under her lashes as her voice takes on a more husky tone. “Besides, I kind of felt like feeding you. You wouldn’t deny me, would you?” 

His eyes darken to molten pools. His lips part around the strawberry, drawing it and the tip of her fingers into his mouth in answer. His hand settles like a band of titillating currents around her wrist holding her fingers in place as he consumes the fruit, then runs his tongue over her finger pads. She gasps at the heat surging down to her moistening core. She notices something else too. The sickening dread in her stomach has dissipated. She could cry from relief. 

Instead, she shivers and moans as he suckles and nips each of her fingertips one after the other before placing his lips on her palm, her wrist, working his way up as her breathing becomes raspy gasps and his face hovers before hers. His fanning breaths tingle her lips, driving her mad as the tension jumping between their gazes fill with a charge that pulls tighter and tighter. 

Then snaps. 

They barely have the forethought to move the jar of strawberries before he’s peeling his shirt from her skin and worshipping her with an unquenchable devotion. 

It’s afterwards when she’s enfolded in his arms, her head tucked under his chin that she decides to be honest with him. If she’s going to break her promise to never lie to him, she may as well be honest when she does keep the truth from him. 

Elizabeth takes a shaky breath and closes her eyes. “Jason... I lied to you.” 

He goes from pliant warmth to frigid stone in a blink. His tone is even and cautious. “What... What do you mean?” 

She keeps her eyes closed because it’s easier to talk this way. She doesn’t have to see the hurt in his gaze when he pulls away to look at her. “When you made me promise to take the vial when we found it, I lied.” 

His silence in response is telling. She gathers her courage and opens her eyes. His eyes are blank, masking his thoughts. The only clue to his upset is the flaring of his nostrils. He’s probably already putting the pieces together, but she chargers on, wanting to get everything out in the open. She wets her lips. “I realized the diamond in my wedding ring had been replaced, this morning. I put the antidote in the strawberry and—” 

He turns from her in an abrupt movement climbing from the bed to snatch up his boxers and jeans, putting them on. 

She sits up, mouth opening and shutting before words begin flooding forth. “I woke up with this-this horrible feeling Jason! I don’t think,” her breath hitches as her throat begins to tighten, the true fact of the matter being too much to swallow. “I don’t think you would’ve made it through the day. And if we hadn’t made love, I wouldn’t have even thought to look at my ring.” 

He pulls on his shirt and picks up his gun, sliding it back into place at his back without giving her so much as a glance. 

Her clawing anxiety towards his continued silence shifts then to simmering anger. Her voice turns hard. “Do you really think I’d let you die if I had the chance to save you?” 

His eyes land on hers diamond sharp, but still blank, internalizing everything. “Get dressed. We’re leaving. Now.” He orders, ignoring her question. 

Her jaw tenses as a flash of heat burns up her neck. She does as he says, sliding out of bed and feeling his eyes trail over her nude form. With controlled motions she dresses, overcome with the threads of her temper snapping loose. Shoes in place, she marches up to him, glaring him down, uncaring of the height distance. “I made a promise to you to never lie to you again, which I intend to keep. But you better believe if it comes to saving your life,” she looks between his eyes, making damn sure he’s listening, “I will lie through my teeth,” she hisses, bolstered by her justification and unfaltering love for him. 

His eyes hold hers for a moment longer before sliding over her shoulder, his feet carrying him towards the bed. She watches him in silence as he divests the pillows of their slips and proceeds to fill them with the remaining food jars, feeling her anger simmer down at realizing he’s not going to blow up at her because he does understand. 

Sidling up to him she peers at his face waiting for him to meet her eyes. When he doesn’t, she huffs and captures his face between her palms. Bringing him down, she kisses him, not the least bit surprised when he responds instantly. Her kisses are soft, chaste almost, but the spark of connection that winds down her bones still leaves her breathless when she pulls away. He’s quiet, eyes still blank, but no longer radiating distance. Thumbing his cheeks, she murmurs, “I love you. Remember that.” 

When she turns to grab the blanket, his hand curls under her elbow tugging her back to face him. He dips down and sweeps her mouth up in a deep kiss. His mouth slants over hers, his tongue caressing hers in knee weakening degrees. He feasts on her mouth for glorious moments leaving her trembling in pleasure when he pulls back. She can read in his tentative look that he's still swallowing what she did, but he's not backing away from them. 

A radiant smile shapes her lips and she turns to finish folding up the blanket. 

—

They’re five minutes into their trek, having decided to take the direction leading straight from the front door, when Elizabeth feels his palm press to her own. Their fingers slot, then curl around the others - his warm hand enveloping her cold one. Heart flipping, she looks up to see his gaze is soft, brimming with adoration. His small smile framed with apology. 

He looks down for a moment, eyes centering on their hands before she’s transfixed by his tender look. “I, uh know why you did it, I just—” 

“You’re scared,” she answers in understanding. 

He looks down again letting out a tremulous breath wrought with emotion before allowing her to see the terror streaking through his eyes. “It would… it would kill me if something were to happen to you because of me.” 

She turns into his path, bringing them to a stop, so she can focus entirely on assuaging his worry. “I know in my gut that that antidote was for you.” She lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of his before pressing it to her cheek. “Don’t worry, I'm fine. And now you are too.” 

He exhales sharply the breath seeming to expel the visible uncertainty in his eyes. He gives a firm nod. “Okay.” 

She grins pressing another kiss to his hand and turns back to the sprawling woods when he gives her hand a little squeeze. 

“Elizabeth.” 

Confused at the somber timbre of his voice, she waits for him to continue. 

He ducks his head for a moment and feels his hold tightening a smidge. “When we get back, we won’t-we can’t go public just yet.” 

Her eyes narrow, disguising the barbed knot of panic currently twisting and ripping her insides to ribbons. His grip is the only thing keeping her hand locked with his. “What do you mean?” 

“Renault is dangerous, Elizabeth. You were brought into this by accident. If he found out what you mean to me, he would go after Cameron, Jake, and Aiden.” 

The tendrils of terror for her boys warring with heartbreak threatening to drown her keep her silent. 

“He kidnapped Cameron and Trina before. He would have killed them,” he tells her with eyes conveying the graveness of his words. 

She tugs her hand and he lets her free, pain pinching his eyes. She crosses her arms with the blanket pressed to her chest as if she can physically hold herself together. “What are you saying?” she bites out knowing what’s coming. _He’s done this before. Why did I trust him? I can’t believe I-Oh god—_

“I’m saying... I want to take out Renault before we go public.” 

Her whirlwind thoughts halt, then, bit by bit, disperse enough for her to think. To listen. 

He steps closer, seeing into her with ease. “Jake and Aiden are still young, and Cameron-they’ve all been through enough. I don’t want them thrown into this just yet,” he explains in a soothing tone, his gaze imploring. 

Words drift through her mind that she hasn’t thought of in over a decade, helping to put her worries at ease. She sweeps her hair behind her ear as a crisp breeze passes through raising goosebumps across her skin further aligning her thoughts. “You know, Robin told me something once that assures me every time that wanting a family with you is the right choice.” She offers a loving smile at the wonder rounding his eyes. “She said that amidst all the danger surrounding her when growing up, what she remembers the most is the love. And Jason,” she extends her hand back to his and he snatches it up, latching on tightly. “I know how much love you have to give. And I know you’d do everything in your power to keep us safe.” 

A quick breath rushes past his lips as elation lights up his expression brighter than any star. It’s beautiful and endearing, but he maintains hesitance in the way he doesn’t immediately respond. She understands. It’s one of the many reasons she loves him - his capacity to love and protect her boys even though two of them aren’t his by blood. 

She sighs, conceding to his point. “But... we’ll wait like you want.” She narrows her eyes. “But the moment he’s gone, you can’t back out. I mean it. I want a life with you.” 

He nods slowly, sincerity twinkling in his eyes. “I want a life with you too. That’s-that’s all I’ve ever wanted with you,” he murmurs before leaning down and sealing his mouth to hers. 

And this time she can feel it in the core of her being, in the jubilant wisps of her soul, that they’ll make it. Their thread has tangled and snagged over the years, but they always wind up crashing back into each other in the end. 

She smiles into his kiss. _Because we’re meant to be._

—

Elizabeth groans into his chest, using Jason as support as her legs drag like dead weights. They had taken to following a faint foot trail they’d discovered deeper in the woods, only breaking occasionally. But as the looming pine trees darken with the last rays of sunlight, she’s ready to suggest they stop for the night. 

His arm around her shoulders squeezes briefly. “Look,” he speaks into the crown of her hair. 

She does and feels a rush of renewed energy flood her veins. The trees thin out over a short incline and a road bisects their path; down the road are buildings of a town. _Salvation._ “Oh, thank god! I was getting sick of fruit and dried meat,” she exclaims with a touch of dramatics, feeling downright giddy as she grins. “I swear, when we get back, I _never_ want to go camping again.” 

He bends so his mouth is right against her ear, treating her to the husky dip in his voice.. “I don’t know, you and I had a good time reconnecting last night...” 

She feels her face practically steam in the cold air as her stomach gives a delighted jump at his flirting. She backhands his chest lightly while giggling. “Oh, shut up.” 

He chuckles, the warm sound traveling through her skin and making her feel as if she’s floating on air as he presses a kiss to her temple.

She sobers up after a moment as they step on the road and start towards the town. “But seriously, when we get home, I can’t wait to hug my boys. I know they must be worried to death about me,” she confesses in a hushed voice, finally allowing the barricade keeping her concern at bay crash down. She knows in general they’re okay. Safe and sound at home. But Cam, with her wild streak in him, probably got it in his head to try and go out and find her. Biting her lip until pain burns through her mouth, she prays Franco convinced him it would be better for him to be there for his brothers instead. 

Fingers curl under her chin and the rough pad of a thumb tugs her lip free. Her vision clears of her boys as she gradually emerges from her mind. Jason’s brows are furrowed, his eyes blanketed in concern. “Hey. Everything’s going to be fine. We’re going to use a phone and I’m going to make a call. We’ll be home by the end of the night, okay?” 

She lets out a rattled breath, watching it steam in the dropping temperatures. “Okay.” 

Led by his hand, they come upon a quaint looking one story house at the edge of town, the next house being a little ways off. She’s relieved to see a dark sedan in the driveway and the glow of lights through the curtains. Up the one step porch, she observes the burnt red and pumpkin orange leaf twined reef hung on the door while Jason knocks. 

Several beats pass before the locks unlatch and the door opens. A woman half a head taller than her peaks out. Plain faced with blond hair twisted up in a bun and glasses perched on her nose. Blue and green eyes stare wide at them - probably the most unique feature about her. 

Elizabeth doesn’t blame the woman’s wariness. She and Jason probably look like they crawled out of the woods after a weeklong stay which is not necessarily untrue. Still, she does her best to come off as unthreatening in her smile, taking the lead. Jason is a lot of things, but a people person is not one. “Hi, sorry to disturb you. My... husband and I decided to take a spur of the moment vacation to a nice little cabin we rented in the woods, but we had car troubles and had to walk,” she explains with an air of disappointment. Ignoring the prickle of Jason’s stare on her skin, she tucks a wayward lock behind her ear. “New to the area, we got a little lost, so can you tell us where we are please?” 

The woman’s eyes still gleam with suspicion, but she opens the door a little wider revealing a living room furnished to the brim with knick knacks and decorative pine cones. “This is Perth, Ontario,” she states with a rich accent somewhat similar to midwesterners. 

Elizabeth internalizes her wince. Doubtful she’s referring to California, it would seem they were taken across the border to Canada. Expression twisting into apology, Elizabeth makes their request. “We’d hate to inconvenience you, but could we use your phone? Ours died on the walk, and we have three boys to get home to,” she adds, hoping the sound of children will broker a little trust and understanding. 

The woman’s eyes round and she nods her head opening the door fully. “Of course, come in!” 

Elizabeth steps over the threshold with Jason behind her, instantly becoming enveloped by toasty warmth and the smell of gingerbread. She almost moans in rejoice as the heat sinks into her bones, so used to the cold at this point. Instead, she expresses her gratitude, a genuine smile overtaking her lips. “I’m Elizabeth and this is Jason. Thank you so much for helping us.” 

The woman scurries across the room picking up a slim phone from her desk laden with papers and a few picture frames. “I’m Melanie and I’m happy to help.” She crosses the room and hands the unlocked phone to Jason. 

He takes it with a quiet thanks and stands in the corner by the door, turning from them. 

Elizabeth follows Melanie deeper into the living room while he makes the call, stopping at the crackling fireplace while Melanie returns to her desk. Her eyes are drawn to the picture frames above the fireplace, studying Melanie with two blond men a few years older than her. _Older brothers maybe?_ “We really appreciate your generosity. Our boys are no doubt worried since we’ve missed a few check in calls.” 

The rattling of a desk drawer being opened mixes faintly with Jason’s hushed tone. 

“It’s no problem at all. In fact, it makes my job easier.” 

A stab of ice drives through her heart at the loss of accent to Melanie’s murmured words. 

Head snapping in Melanie’s direction, the air leaves her lungs at the sight of a gun with a silencer pointed right at Jason, her former doe eyed gaze now as sharp as blades. Elizabeth doesn’t have to look to know his back is turned with his attention on the phone call. There’s no way he would react in time to dodge or even draw his gun. Still, somehow, time seems to churn forward at a molasses’ pace, giving her ample time to feel the blanket tumble from her hands and her legs moving without command. To hear the indistinct hiss as the bullet exits the chamber. To know she doesn’t regret it when pain starbursts from the center of her chest, dragging her into blackened depths in a blink. 

She’d do anything for him, after all. 


	6. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best to do research for the stuff that's mentioned in this chapter, so I hope I'm not horrendously inaccurate.  
> Thank you all for reading!

**_Wednesday, September 16, 2020_ **  
**_Perth, Ontario_ **

The glass jars shatter when Jason hears the shot, his hand already gripping his gun when he whirls around. There’s no thought when he pulls the trigger, and watches crimson bloom from the clean shot to Melanie’s heart. It’s as if everything is stripped back to black and white. Sonny’s muffled calls in the background. Melanie, dead on the floor. 

Elizabeth crumpled to the ground with blood oozing from her chest. 

Everything snaps back into place at once, overloading his senses with a near paralyzing terror. 

_“Elizabeth!”_ His cry rips through him. His gun and the phone slip from his hands when he falls to his knees beside her. For a frantic moment, his intrinsic medical knowledge fails to surface as his hands quiver above her bleeding chest. His eyes dart around and things click. Snatching the rose cover off the end table, he folds it up, and presses hard against her wound, hoping to slow the flow of blood. In moments, her life soaks through it and pools between his fingers unhindered, coating his hands. She doesn’t flinch, face as pale as freshly fallen snow. His breath comes in broken rasps, his vision becoming blurry. 

“El-Elizabeth it’s gonna be okay-I’m gonna get you some help—” His words tangle on his tongue, his mind a maelstrom of her - that first night at Jake’s, her leaning over him to press her cheek to his forehead for his temperature, her in the leather jacket he bought her, her holding their son, the radiant shine in her eyes when she finally said _yes_ \- this woman he’s known the majority of his life as Jason Morgan,. The heart rending thought that he might actually lose her spills hot tears down his cheeks. 

He grabs the fallen phone with one shaking hand, nearly dropping it with his slick fingers and presses it between his shoulder and ear. “Sonny! Elizabeth’s been—” 

“Spinelli’s already alerted the paramedics and sent your location. They should be there any minute,” is Sonny’s quick assurance and distant sirens emerge in the background. 

He sniffles and gingerly feathers his fingertips around the side of her face in a loving caress. Trails of red stand stark against bone white. “Help is on the way. You’re gonna be… you’re gonna be just fine, Elizabeth. I-I promise,” he tells her in a tremulous voice thick with tears. 

Letting the phone drop to his lap, Sonny forgotten, he leans down and presses his lips to her forehead for a long moment, willing his love to reach her and tell her to hold on, to not leave him or her boys. Then, with a quavering inhale, he rests his forehead against hers. 

The door bursts open behind him. 

A stampede of footsteps rush in, then his hands are forced away as Elizabeth is lifted onto a stretcher. Voices swirl outside his head indistinguishable, his eyes unwavering on form. He drifts after her like a specter bound to her soul. Then something impedes him breaking his view as she’s whisked out the door. 

“What happened here sir?” A man with square features and graying hair barks. 

Jason can physically feel her distance stretching from him like a tightness squeezing his lungs until he can scarcely breathe. “I need her- _I need to be with her!”_

His attempt to push past the cop is halted again. “We got one woman dead, another mortally wounded. You understand why we can’t just let you leave without answers, right?” The cop’s green eyes are harsh and unmoved as he holds his ground. 

Jason tries to find his internal switch to shut down, to empty himself of emotion so everything can slide right through him with no effect. That switch keeps slipping out of his grasp and he wonders if it’s because of her blood staining his hands. “Elizabeth-the woman that was shot-we were kidnapped and left in some cabin in the woods. We came here to ask to use a phone so we could go home. The woman must’ve been working with our kidnapper because she tried-she shot—” his throat burns and his stomach churns as he swallows, then finishes hoarsely, “I shot her before she could take aim again.” 

The cop looks skeptical, notepad in hand as a man from forensics walks up with Jason’s gun in a sealed bag, handing it over. “You know, it’s illegal to possess a firearm in Canada, right?” 

Jason legitimately believes an explosion is about to detonate beneath his skin and the only way to relieve the pressure is to wrap his hands around this man’s neck and _squeeze._ The question as to why he was left with his gun now makes sense. “Look,” he growls short of spitting the word, “Elizabeth and I were kidnapped! I had no say in the god-damned matter! Take my gun-keep it! I don’t give a damn! All I care about is Elizabeth. I need to be with her. I need to know if… if she’s alive. _Please,”_ he pleads in the end, feeling tears bubble up and roll down his cheeks without his say so. 

The cop stares at him for a few beats, expressionless before nodding to someone over Jason’s shoulder. “Take this man to his girlfriend and don’t let him out of your sight until we can find evidence to either corroborate or contradict his story.” 

Jason lets out a relieved breath from the bottom of his soul, blinking away more tears all the while. _“Thank you.”_ He doesn’t wait for the cop’s response as he follows a younger man out to a cruiser and climbs in. 

The ride to the hospital feels like an eternity. 

It gives him plenty of time to wonder if he’s lost her already, if, when they arrive, he’ll have to identify her body. It gets to the point where he considers just jumping out of the car and running to the hospital growing larger in the distance - surely it would be faster. The cruiser does eventually pull up to the building. The car hasn’t completely stopped when he jumps out and bolts into the hospital. 

He runs right up to the ER desk causing the woman stationed there to jump and stare at him with wide green eyes that drop to his bloodied hands. 

“Sir, do you need—” 

“There was a woman brought in with a gunshot wound to the chest not long ago... I need to-is she alive?” he begs in a fragile tone. 

Her mouth opens and shuts, indecision pinching her gaze before landing on the officer that comes up beside him. 

“That woman is a part of an ongoing investigation. What’s her status?” 

Her eyes fall down to her computer monitor and Jason experiences a rare rush of gratitude towards the policeman. 

The keys of her keyboard click for a few seconds before she tucks a lock of raven dark hair behind her ear, turning eyes softened with sympathy back to him. His heart seizes up in his chest. “She went into cardiac arrest in transit, but they were able to revive and stabilize her. She’s in surgery now to remove the bullet lodged in her pleural cavity. The bullet caused a hemothorax, so they’re going to drain the blood within the pleural space as well. She also has three fractured ribs and a bruised right lung, but our best surgeons are on it. Barring no further complications, I'm certain she'll make it through this.” 

He goes nearly boneless, his fear finally relinquishing it's clawed grip around his throat. He inhales deeply, still trembling slightly. “Uh, thank you for letting me know.” 

The nurse’s smile widens. “You’re the husband?” 

“That’s the plan,” his answer is automatic, blunt in its honesty. 

She reaches behind the desk for a clipboard and attaches a few sheets of paper. She goes to hand it to him, but pauses when looking at his hands. “Um, you can clean up in the bathroom down that hall over there, then fill out this medical information on her so we can be sure to treat her to the fullest of our capabilities. And don’t worry, the surgery has only just started so it’ll be a few hours before they’re done, okay Mr...?” 

“Jason Morgan.” 

Her eyes round marginally before she's nodding jerkily in seeming shock. 

He dips his head in a nod, turning towards the hallway previously indicated, noting the assessing stare of the cop on his way. Irritation rolls under the surface at the possibility of being brought in on his reputation alone. He’s not the offender here, Renault is. 

Striding past a man exiting the men’s room, Jason enters. Moving in front of a sink he turns the water on cold. He watches the loose layer of blood drain down the sink diluted to a less harsher pink as his thoughts spiral, trying to find order. He said he plans to marry her. With her blood on his hands while she was in surgery for no doubt taking a bullet meant for him, he said he plans to marry her. 

This is usually when the overwhelming urge to run away from her for her own good takes hold. He feels it itching under his skin, screaming at the back of his mind in a voice reminiscent of Carly. 

But he’s just so damn tired of running, of settling for second best when he could reach out and have what they both want with ease. 

This, more than anything, is hitting home how much time they’ve wasted. Elizabeth very well could have died today - she had. And that would’ve been it. He never would’ve seen her smile again, or hear her laugh. He never would've seen her being the best mother he knows, or see the spark of strength flaring under her skin. He would’ve been living in a world of nothing again. 

So he’s sticking to this decision. Elizabeth was always the one fighting for them. It’s about time he met her half way and put effort into the life with her he’s wished for for years. To hell with anyone who believes he’s making a mistake. 

He said he was going to marry her. Renault made a mistake he’ll pay for with his life. And after, if she’ll still have him, he’ll make their wish a reality. 

He picks up the soap and begins scrubbing his hands. 

— 

**_Hospital ER_ **

He filled out her forms and proceeded to pace for the next few hours, unable to remain in one place with the need to do _something_ coursing so keenly within him. The trill ringing of a cell phone breaks up the monotony of people flowing in and out of the hospital. Vaguely, he notes the cop step away, his central focus being Elizabeth and wondering what’s taking so long. It’s been nearly five hours according to the clock on the pasty white wall. 

“Mr. Morgan.” The gravelly voice of the cop makes him still. He turns to face him, wary, but the cop isn’t reaching for his cuffs. “We found the cabin and a note that corroborates your story. You as well as Mrs. Baldwin have been cleared of suspicion, just-head back home as soon as you’re able.” 

Jason lets out a breath, slowly nodding. “Will do.” 

The cop departs, and he runs a hand over his face, looking back at the clock which reads just after midnight. Whispering footsteps approach him from behind and he turns to see the nurse with green eyes giving him a hesitant smile. “Elizabeth is just out of surgery. There were no complications, so with proper treatment she’ll make a full recovery.” 

His eyes fall shut as the tension melts from his body. He looks at the nurse with bright grateful eyes. “Thank you for saving her.” 

Her eyes round before her smile becomes fuller. “I didn’t do anything, but I’ll pass on the sentiment all the same. Elizabeth is being moved to ICU where she’ll need to stay for the next 24 hours. I’ll take you there. It’s on the second floor.” 

He follows after her where they take an elevator and emerge in a maze of halls - the typical hospital layout. After a few turns, they stop outside a door with a plate reading _Webber, Elizabeth_ beside the door. 

She turns to him again before he can step in. “She’s going to be on oxygen therapy to keep her oxygen levels up. It’s going to be a bit before she wakes up, so don’t be alarmed.” 

He nods, thankful. “I-I really appreciate how kind you’ve been, uh, Nurse...?” 

“Bailey,” she supplies with a considering gaze. “And it’s no problem at all. You’ve got an intimidating air about you, but I can see how much you love her.” 

He dips his head, nodding almost abashedly. 

“Another nurse will be by every hour to cheek her vitals. I just wanted to take you here and explain a few things before I left for the day.” 

He meets her eyes, murmuring a soft thanks before she walks around him. He faces the door. Hand hovering over the handle for a moment, he pushes down on the cool metal and enters her room. 

She looks so small. 

Tucked under white sheets with tubes in her nose, she sleeps. His breathing trembles as he exhales and shuts the door behind him. He takes note of the BP readings, heart rate, and oxygen levels before finding the chair at her side and sinking into it. He collects her small hand in his, breath catching at the feel of her silken, warm skin aligning with his roughened touch again. He’s been told that she would be fine and that she _is_ okay. But seeing her, _feeling_ her, finally drives it home. Pressing his mouth to the back of her hand in three loving kisses, he holds her skin to his cheek, willing his emotions to remain at bay and not to spill down his cheeks. 

Slowly, tracing his fingers down the curve of her face that was once stained with blood, he finally speaks. “Hey. You’re, um, in a-in a hospital. I didn’t even catch the name, I was so worried about what would happen to you.” The rhythmic beeps and soft hiss of air fill his pause. “You were shot trying to save me. That’s twice in one day you’ve put your life on the line for me,” he whispers, sweeping his thumb over her creamy cheek. He swallows thickly nuzzling her hand. “I don’t-I don’t get why you love me so much,” he croaks then lets out a harsh breath, clearing his throat. “I guess that’s just what love is. Ours is indescribable. You said something like that to me once.” 

She remains asleep, maybe hearing him, maybe not. But he feels content to just talk to her, always feeling wonder at the ease in which he can do so with her if he allows himself. “I know you’re probably afraid I’m going to run off after this.” He hums his denial pressing a quick kiss to her hand. “Not gonna happen. I’m in this for the long haul. For as long as you want me, I’m going to fight to be by your side, Elizabeth. _I promise.”_

Time elapses while he gazes at her face transfixed, his eyes tracing her brows, her cheekbones, her jaw and cleft chin, her full lips and dark lashes finding her perfect. From head to toe, inside and out, flaws and all, she is everything he wants, so much so that it’s agonizing even considering walking away again. He leans forward and kisses her forehead. “Not gonna happen,” he repeats under his breath. 

There’s a light knock on the door as he sits back in his chair. Instead of a nurse coming in, he stands from his seat to catch Carly as she barrels into him. Her hold is tight, close to suffocating, but he hugs her back with just as much strength, inhaling her honeysuckle scent deeply. 

_“Oh thank god you’re alright,”_ she gasps in that wet breathless way, brimming with sincerity. 

He squeezes her closer for a moment before pulling away and watching her wipe the tears from her eyes. “What are you doing here?” 

She gives him a fond glare, raising an eyebrow. “Did you really think I would just stay home when Sonny told me where you were? He had to stay because of Donna and everything going on, but you better believe I was in a car after packing some things for you and—” she stops short, gaze falling on the figure in the bed. “Elizabeth. How is she?” she whispers, voice gaining an empathetic edge. 

He rubs a hand over his face feeling exhaustion beginning to creep at his edges. He reclaims his seat. “She’s going to make a full recovery.” 

There’s a thud as the bag Carly was touting is sat on the ground, then the whirring of wheels as another chair settles beside his. “What happened? You guys have been missing for nearly a week.” 

He keeps his gaze on Elizabeth, not wanting to look away from her for too long. “It was a botched hit. Renault intended on killing Sam in front of me, but Elizabeth was the one with me at the time. We were kidnapped instead. We, uh, woke up maybe three days later, I guess, dumped in some abandoned cabin in the woods.” He sighs, cradling Elizabeth’s hand between his without thought. “He toyed with us. Left a note saying one of us had been poisoned and we had to find the antidote or drop dead in a matter of days.” 

“Oh god...” 

“Elizabeth was the one who found it and tricked me into taking it because she knew...” 

“She knew you would make her take it even though you were the one most likely poisoned. Jesus Christ,” Carly surmised in a strained whisper. 

“He knows me well enough to understand that I wouldn’t risk an innocent life. He expected me to die, but if that failed, he had a woman prepared to kill us.” He rubs his thumb across her knuckles, back and forth, over and over. “I let my guard down when I shouldn’t have. I had my back turned when I made the call to Sonny, and Elizabeth...” 

“Took the bullet,” Carly finishes solemnly. “Wow, I’m going to be indebted to her for life, huh?” she tries to joke lightly, but it sounds hollow. Her hand falls over his wrist and he can practically hear her questions before they’re even voiced. “Did something happen between you two? I thought she was happy with... _Franco_ and you with Sam? I mean, Sam’s perfect for you—” 

“Is she Carly? Or is she the perfect fallback?” he cuts in coolly before her rant can begin. She doesn’t respond immediately and he takes those seconds to turn Elizabeth’s hand over and stroke his thumb over her wrist, wanting to be reassured by her pulse himself. “When I came back from that Russian clinic after realizing five years had passed, I was... shocked. Devastated. Everyone had grown, moved on with their lives. Where was I supposed to fit in? You had an answer for that of course,” he says not exactly in anger, but more in resignation. Carly will always try and do what’s best for him, even when that’s not necessarily the case. 

“Jason...” 

“Sam and I don’t work anymore. She’s changed and I’m still the same. And yet, against all odds, I keep ending up back with her—” 

“Because you’re meant to be,” she whispers sharply. 

_“Because I’ve never been strong enough to fight for Elizabeth!”_ he snaps, glaring into Carly’s wet, defiant gaze before returning his eyes to Elizabeth. “I gave everything I told Elizabeth we couldn’t have to Sam. A home, a family, marriage. I gave my dream to a woman I wasn’t afraid to lose because it was the safe, practical choice for my life. Because I wouldn’t have to worry about everything draining out of me the moment something happened to take her away from me.” 

“Like with Michael and Jake,” she murmurs with a sniffle. 

His breath is tremulous. “Yeah.” He meets Carly’s gaze again, seeing her frown, but she remains quiet, listening for once. “I love Sam, but I-I’m in love with Elizabeth. _I want to be with her,”_ he stresses trying to get her to understand. “And I’m going to after I kill that _bastard,”_ he growls, jaw tense as a flash of unbridled fury breaches his control before slipping back under the surface. He looks back at Elizabeth’s face, peaceful in slumber. “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. I’m not running from her anymore.” He kisses Elizabeth’s hand again, done with the conversation. 

“Elizabeth-she’s not right for you Jason. She’s whiny, and fickle, and is a damsel in distress. She doesn’t understand you _at all—”_

“What is your problem with her? Really, Carly?” He glares at her, incensed at her never changing attitude. “Because you’ve hated her since she helped me when I got shot all those years ago.”

Carly pouts, visibly struggling with her choice of lie. So it surprises him when what comes out of her mouth sounds hesitant and vulnerable. Honest. “She hates me Jason. She hates me and she’s going to do everything in her power to get me out of your life. She doesn’t understand that I need you.” She touches his cheek with her fingertips. “I need my best friend.”

He sighs and waits for her hand to drop. “Carly… did you ever think that if you didn’t give her a reason to hate you, she’d be more accepting of you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Elizabeth understands me better than you realize. You’ll see if you give her the chance,” he expresses with reverence, while looking upon Elizabeth.

“...Then I guess I’m going to have to put on my big girl pants and be the friend you deserve Jase,” she says in an easy tone which he turns to, wide eyed. “I’m supposed to be your best friend which means I support you, even if I think you’re making a mistake—” 

_“Carly,”_ he warns, raising an eyebrow. 

“I know, I know. I won’t argue. I love you Jason, and that means I’m going to bite off anyone’s head who tries to speak out against your relationship, including Sam if she doesn’t get a clue after you talk to her,” she proclaims with pride, straightening her shoulders and twisting her smile into something more devious. He shakes his head in exasperation, but smiles nonetheless. “Franco is... different,” she admits after a beat in a subdued tone. 

His mirth depletes, leaving him frigid. “Yeah, Sam and I-she said something to me that made me worried. You remember Manny Ruiz?" 

Carly visibly shudders. “Yeah, who could forget that psycho freak.” She blinks and the color drains from her face all at once. _“Oh my god._ You can’t think—” 

“I don’t know.” He looks back at Elizabeth, stomach twisting into painful knots. “Manny used the same excuse of a brain tumor being the reason for his behavior, but that proved not to be the case. The tumor just enhanced what was already there. I tried to talk to Elizabeth about it before the kidnapping but—” 

“The moment his name came out of your mouth she snapped at you,” Carly groans and rises, pacing in front of the bed with sharp thuds from her boots. “God, I know the town turned her into a pariah after what happened when we thought Drew was you, and it’s mostly my fault, but choosing that man to cling to in response is just—” she growls in frustration. “And those boys. If Franco really has been pretending all along—” 

“How are they?” he asks, chest tight with anxiety. 

She looks at him, brows creased and eyes gentle. “Jake and Danny are fine-worried of course, but they’ve been staying at the Quartermaine’s with Scout, Aiden, and Cameron. All of them are okay. Cameron got it in his head that he would confront Renault—” 

He curses as his hand tightens around Elizabeth’s, every muscle in him pulsing with terror. 

Carly waves her hands, rushing to his side. “No no no, it’s okay! Joselyn talked him out of it before he could even think to go through with it. She’s been good for him during this.” 

He releases a breath, his hands shaking around Elizabeth’s. “Okay.” He tries to let relief ease his tension until he notices something odd about what Carly said. Looking into her eyes, he asks, “Why aren’t Scout and Danny with Sam?” 

She bites her lip and darts her gaze to the side. Incredulity hooks into his veins and tugs sharply. “She and, uh, Franco, of all people, apparently followed a false lead... to... Europe,” she tries to say under her breath but he hears every word crystal clear. 

The only thing keeping him seated as anger sears at his temples is Elizabeth’s hand in his. “What the hell is she _thinking?!_ She’s on parole! She can’t leave the goddamn city let alone the _country.”_

Carly winces at his scathing tone, forcing him to take several calming breaths. “Sonny kept it under the radar. And beside, they’re flying back - well, to Toronto. And then they have to drive here - I guess that doesn’t really help.” 

“Sam should go home to her kids that she seemed so desperate to get out of prison for,” he argues with a tight jaw, appalled at how careless she’s been lately with her second chance with her kids. They _need_ their mother. He shakes his head, pressing his forehead to Elizabeth’s knuckles. “I don’t give a damn about Franco. Looking into his medical records only proves he had the tumor, it’s trying to prove he’s been pretending all along that I’ve been struggling with,” he admits, closing his eyes. 

The faintest squeeze against his hand freezes his breath in his lungs. 

He jolts into a rightened position, eyes zeroing in on Elizabeth’s face. Her eyes squeeze tighter, her mouth pinching. His heart begins slamming against his ribs. She makes a small groan, head turning slightly in his direction. Her eyes peel open revealing a beautiful sliver of royal blue. She blinks with another groan and her eyes open wider. “J-Jason?” she breathes. 

His breath rushes out and he leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth, her nose, then her forehead where he lingers with a thankful moan. He pulls back enough for her eyes to fill his vision, stroking his thumb over her cheek as sparks rush across his skin and bloom right in his chest. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed your beautiful eyes or the sound of your voice,” he breathes with an uncontrollable smile tugging at his lips. 

There’s a thick grogginess clouding her eyes, but he notices pinpricks of shock in their depths as a rosy flush begins to paint her face. The rhythm of the heart monitor begins to surge and an alarm blares. He lurches to his feet, eyes finding the machine. Her heart rate has skyrocketed while her oxygen levels struggle to keep up, dipping even. Panicked, he looks down to see Elizabeth’s face contorting, her eyes pinched shut as she fights for her every breath. 

His heart crashes through his stomach. _“Elizabeth!”_

The door crashes open and he’s being tugged back. His focus is keen on the nurses and doctor surrounding her, watching them place a bag valve mask over her mouth and nose and begin to feed her air before he’s yanked out of the door and into the hall. 

_“Jason!_ Jason, come on, you need to look at me,” Carly orders, clamping her cool hands around his cheeks and forcing him to comply. 

He feels light on oxygen himself, his chest a myriad of pain. “I-I don’t know what happened! _She was fine Carly!”_

She nods calmly, combing through his hair with one hand in a comforting manner. “And they’re going to get her back to that state. You’ll see.” No sooner than she says the words, the shrill alarm goes quiet and a calmer heart rate can be heard. 

He lets out a shaky breath and Carly pulls him into an embrace. He tucks his face against her hair, holding her tighter as a tremor of relief works through him. _“Thank god.”_

Nurses begin to empty out of the room, and he and Carly pull apart waiting for the doctor. He watches the man speak with Elizabeth for a while, watching her brows crease with obvious confusion. The doctor ultimately pats her on the arm, then exits the room. Through the window, Elizabeth’s eyes find his rifle in uncertainty. 

A hollowness opens up in his stomach. 

The doctor crosses his hands over his stomach looking between him and Carly with an air of assurance Jason does not feel. “Mrs. Baldwin will be fine. She was merely overwhelmed upon regaining consciousness.” 

Carly snorts and he snaps his gaze her way in disbelief. She laughs out loud when she notices his stare. There’s not an ounce of ill will in her eyes. “I would’ve had the same reaction had I woken up like that too.” 

He raises his eyebrows further, his shock intensifies as he wonders, not for the first time, what goes on in her blond head. 

She whines and backhands his arm in jest. “Come on, Jason! We’re all going to laugh about how you almost killed her with your lovin’ one day, just you wait.” 

He bows his head into his hand with an exasperated sigh, one hand falling to his hip as he rubs his thumb over his brow. 

“Okay, okay. I’m done. I’m sorry, please continue,” Carly urges, sounding far more pleased than she should. 

The doctor clears his throat. “Yes, well... it would seem the patient experienced hypoxia in transit to the hospital, resulting in—” 

“Retrograde amnesia,” Jason inserts in a drained tone looking up, well and truly worn to the bone. 

He feels Carly turn stone beside him. 

Dark eyes widen under raised bushy brows. “You know of this condition?” 

Punctuating each word, he states, “I have this condition.” His stare is blank afterward. He ignores the way the doctor’s eyes look up, no doubt spotting the faint scar stretching up from his brow from when his head careened into a boulder because his brother was drunk behind the wheel. “I’ve never been able to recover the memories of the first twenty-two years of my life. Is-is hers that bad?” 

The doctor’s eyes meet his again. “N-no, she says the last clear memory she has is making hot chocolate at the end of her shift on Friday of last week. In fact, I’m highly certain her memories of the past week will return in time. Of course, I’ll have an MRI done just to be sure, but my prognosis is positive.” 

Spirits lifting at the certainty that she recalls her sons, he tries to look past the pang of anguish that assaults his chest at knowing she’s forgotten their reconciliation. “That’s good.” 

Carly leans into his side, curling her arms around his in palpable support. 

The doctor extends out his hand. “I’m Dr. Mark Jackson and I’ll be seeing over her care here at Perth Memorial.” 

Jason grips his hand and shakes, then pauses. “Actually... I was wondering when it would be safe to have her transferred to a different hospital? We have to get back home.” 

They drop hands and Dr. Jackson rocks forward onto the balls of his feet briefly. “I’d say she’d be stable enough to move once she's out of the Intensive Care Unit.” 

Jason nods, keeping his focus locked on the here and now and what he _can_ do, to keep himself afloat. “What paperwork do I have to fill out?” 

“I’ll have a nurse bring it to you—” 

“Oh, and is there a place he can use to wash up?” Carly inquires. 

Dr. Jackson blinks before sputtering a bit. “Ah, um, yes there is. If you would follow me.” 

Jason obliges mechanically until Carly grabs his arm, keeping him in place. “I’ll keep her company and I promise not to try and jog her memory or anything,” she says quickly before darting into Elizabeth’s room, returning with the bag she brought. 

He takes it from her, eyes falling to the strap clutched in his hand. “It’s, uh, better this way - at least for now. We agreed to wait until the situation back home de-escalated.” Nodding his head a few times to force himself to believe the words, he slings the bag over his shoulder and turns towards Dr. Jackson not making eye contact with anyone. “It’s better this way. ” 

He strides past Elizabeth’s window without another glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, I know. I can't stand Carly for all the things she's done to Elizabeth in the past. But I needed someone to be on both of their sides during this story. And it's about time Carly grew up for once.


	7. 6

**_Thursday, September 17, 2020_ **   
**_Elizabeth’s ICU Room_ **

_What is going on?!_ Elizabeth wracks her brain for answers which it coolly denies her of, giving her only the memory of making her hot chocolate with a shot of coffee as her last clear recollection. It’s obviously not right though, because Jason was there stealing her breath away literally with his lips and his voice and that adoring look in his eyes— 

She hears the heart rate monitor begin to pick up again, feeling it in her chest, and quickly turns her thoughts elsewhere for the sake of her own health. When her chest stops straining and goes back to a numb ache, she focuses her attention through the window as her doctor speaks with Jason and Carly of all people. 

None of this makes sense. 

_I’m in a hospital in Canada with a bullet wound to the chest. Jason is very clearly not upset with me anymore - in fact, he looked kind of in love with me._ When her next breath feels like it’s coming through a straw, she forces herself to look at her situation objectively, stating only the facts. _He’s not avoiding me anymore due to something that happened in the past week which led to me being shot._

Then, carefully, she tries to create pieces that could potentially make the jumbled up puzzle in her mind make sense. _Maybe... he... wants to be with me now?_ The thought is so excruciatingly tentative, she immediately searches for reasons it can’t be true. _It doesn’t make sense. What could I have possibly said to him that would make him want me, after I was shot nonetheless, when he’s so obviously in love with Sam?_

She exhales sluggishly, her eyes drooping from both sleepiness and disappointment. “s’impossible. He was probably just worried. Didn’t mean it,” she drawls to herself, shifting more towards her right side for a more comfortable position. 

She must’ve lost a few minutes, because the next thing she hears are the sharp thuds of heeled boots, then Carly is sitting there beside her. The woman in question holds up her hands in a universal sign of peace. “Now before you ask, your boys are fine. They’re together at the Quartermaine’s.” 

Elizabeth sucks in a slow deep breath, a little more alert as her new unwanted pal confusion blankets her. “Why wouldn’t they be okay?” 

Carly opens her mouth, then twists it in a worried grimace. Her eyes speak volumes of the half truths she’s trying to form. “Well, you and Jason were kidnapped...” 

Elizabeth gives a slight shake of her head. “Why would they take me? ’m not important.” 

Carly’s eyes trail from her own as she sweeps her hair behind her ear. “It might have had something to do with not leaving any witnesses, you know? As well as mistaken identity. Dark hair, petite frame, standing next to Jason...” 

Elizabeth pushes her head back deeper into the pillow, feeling her heart sinking through her stomach. “Sam.” 

Carly’s stare is blunt. “Yeah.” She presses her lips together in thought. “From what I understand, you handled yourself really well during this thing though,” she offers. 

Elizabeth’s laugh sounds like winded coughs more than anything. “Which translates to: I took a bullet for Jason.” She shakes her head slowly to stop Carly from answering. “Don’t remember but... I know I would for him. I knew he’d save me. Knew I’d be okay...” she trails off at the end and focuses on breathing and not falling back to sleep. 

Carly leans closer, gratitude gleaming in her cornflower blue eyes. “Thank you for that. I will owe you forever. Which,” she sits straighter with a confidence lifting her tone, “is why I’m going to help you. That and I love Jason, so.” She shrugs, leaving it at that. 

Elizabeth feels the hair on her skin rise in wariness. Help from Carly rarely turns out well. “You really... don’t need to—” 

“I’m going to be like your fairy godmother, stepping in when you need it. With your memories all messed up, you’re going to need it. Trust me.” 

Elizabeth swallows, then coughs a bit from a parched throat. “What... _do_ you know?” 

Carly is up and back with a cup of water and straw extended towards her before her sluggish mind can process it. While she takes small sips, Carly says in an evasive manner, “Enough.” 

Despite the tendrils of annoyance she feels at the none answer, she does thank Carly once she’s had her fill. 

A nurse walks in when Carly pulls back, a medical chart and clipboard in hand. “These are the transfer papers Mr. Morgan requested,” she states in a chipper tone. 

Carly takes the proffered item with a thanks just as bright. 

Elizabeth is finally cluing in to Jason’s lack of presence. It makes her insides uncomfortably tight. “Wh-Where is Jason?” she asks fingers curling into the sheets. 

The nurse turns away from jotting down Elizabeth’s readings, her brows furrowed, but Carly is the one that answers. 

“He’s just getting cleaned up. Being stuck out—” her mouth snaps shut and she drops her gaze down to the sheets of paper in her lap. “Never mind. I’m sure he’ll be back.” 

Though despite the positive spin put in her voice, she sounds a tad bit uncertain to Elizabeth’s liking. She shuts her eyes, wishing she knew more. _So much for not avoiding me._

“Alright, your vitals look good. How are you feeling?” 

Elizabeth doesn’t have the will to open her eyes. “Tired. Think ’m gonna get some more sleep,” she whispers. 

“That’s good. Sleep is conducive to healing.” 

“So when I... when I wake up, Jason and I’ll be okay...?” 

She’s asleep before she can hear the answer. 

— 

She wakes up and there’s this wonderful current running along her skin. The hand holding hers starts to slip away, but she clutches tight until he returns his grip. When she opens her eyes, she sees his bright, tender gaze shaded in uncertainty. His look is unwavering and intense, almost like he’s enraptured beyond his control. With hesitance, he begins sweeping his thumb along the back of her hand and a pleasant shiver curls down her spine in response. 

She does her best to disregard the increased tempo of the heart rate monitor in the background until she sees the twinkle of pride in his gaze. A breathless laugh bubbles up before she can stop it and his eyes wrinkle at edges, pleased. When her laughter calms, she rubs her thumb over his fingers in return and does her best to keep up with her excited heart. “Talk to me. Please?” she breathes. 

He breaks their connection, ducking his head to focus on their hands. “Elizabeth... I—” 

Rapid footfalls approaching shatter the dreamlike calm of the darkened room to her disappointment. Jason unclasps their hands and turns to the entrance of the room. That’s when Franco appears in the doorway, disheveled and out of breath. 

Her lips part in a jarring shock as she realizes she hasn’t really thought of him once since her first waking. 

He rushes to her side and gingerly envelops her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. _“Thank god you’re alright,”_ he rasps before pulling back and dipping his head down to press his mouth to hers. 

There’s no spark on her end as usual, no skipping of her heart. It’s nice, normal, safe. But it feels strangely _wrong_ too, like she changed without noticing and no longer fits. She turns her head away, breaking the kiss. “’s a little hard to breathe at the moment,” is her excuse despite her heart monitor saying otherwise. And over his shoulder, she catches Jason’s eyes and knows he caught her lie. 

His look leaves her feeling exposed and downright confused. Why does it feel like she’s stretched all wrong and her skin no longer fits her? Why does her role as Franco Baldwin’s wife feel like it belongs to someone else when it’s been less than a day to her since she excelled at it? _Maybe... Maybe it was easier then because Jason looked at me like I was lost to him. And now... Now he looks at me and_ sees _me. Now he sees me and seems to want me—_

And then there’s the rapid click of heels nearing and Jason steps out in the hall to meet her. _Sam._

Elizabeth looks away with a punctured heart, lifting her hand to cup Franco’s scruffy cheek. “’m fine. ’m gonna make a full recovery,” she assures him, brushing her knuckles lazily down his cheek. Things may feel off, but she’ll work her way back to the place they were that morning after they sent the boys off to school. Remembering this past week won’t matter. 

He wraps his fingers around her wrist and kisses her knuckles. His eyes are wet with emotion as he clears his throat. “What happened?” 

“I chose to get shot,” she admits slowly with a wry grin. His eyes round as he stammers and she amends her statement slightly. “Well... it was _mostly_ my decision.” 

He’s blinking now, mouth opening and shutting before he raises his eyebrows. “I don’t-I don’t understand. You-do you mind explaining?” 

She sighs, not wanting to cause a blowout, and her eyes drift towards the window. Tension swirls around Jason and Sam in an uncharacteristic storm - the furthest thing from a passionate reunion. From the heavy set of his brows to the diamond sharp blade of his glare, she’d say Jason is livid. What makes her mind sputter is it’s directed at Sam whose expression is short of crumbling. 

“Elizabeth?” 

She jerks her attention back to her husband where it belongs and wets her lips. “’m sorry, ’m just—” she lifts a hand and presses the heel of her hand into her tired eyes before meeting his gaze. “I chose... to save Jason’s life. That’s what happened,” she settles on being candid. “Though I don’t remember myself ’cause of amnesia of the past week.” 

He sits back, eyes showcasing the roar of thoughts in his dark eyes. “Jason is the reason you’re in this bed. He’s the reason you were kidnapped to begin with,” he utters in a faint voice almost like he’s far away. 

Her brows pinch as she twists her hand to wrap around his, trying to dispel a sudden cinder block of unease in her belly. “Hey, ’m not angry with him. So—” 

“You have two children who need you Sam! _Why are you risking that?!”_ Jason’s voice cracks through the air, arresting her attention entirely. 

“You needed me to save you!” Sam counters in a desperate shrill. 

“You know I’m more than capable of taking care of myself,” he growls. “I made it back from Russia just fine. And I wasn’t alone this time.” 

Sam scoffs, jabbing a finger at the window towards her, never taking her eyes off Jason. “And look at how capable she turned out.” 

_“Elizabeth is the reason I'm breathing!”_ Jason bellows with icy fire in his eyes. 

Elizabeth grasps her sheets in tight fists. A distant beeping increases in pace and a voice tries to grab her attention, but she can only focus on Jason. Sam can do no wrong in his eyes, so why is he so furious? 

“I don’t get it. I thought you would be happy to see me. _I love you._ I couldn’t sit back and let something happen to you if I could help it,” Sam cries with tears wetting her eyes. 

Jason doesn’t budge an inch. “So this was more important. _Saving me,”_ he spits the words and Sam flinches, “was more important than making sure the kids you wanted so desperately had a mother.” 

Carly walks up with bags full of foodstuffs hooked at her elbows, a cartoon of drinks in one hand, and stands beside Jason, not saying a word. 

Sam stands frozen. 

“We agreed to stay away from each other for their sake—” 

_“I_ didn’t agree. I love you—” 

“And I love you, but I... I don’t want to be with you anymore,” he tells her in that blank tone signifying his shut down. “Go home to Danny and Scout—” 

The crack of Sam’s hand against Jason’s face is like a gunshot. _“Go to hell!”_

Elizabeth’s worry spirals out of her hands and the beeping grows more insistent. 

_“Shit!”_ Her face is cradled and guided away from the window to Franco’s concerned features. “Hey, hey a little slap won’t kill him.” 

She squeezes her eyes tight for a moment, pain spider-webbing through her chest as she sucks in her breaths. “He’s... hurting,” she whispers weakly. He’s choosing to walk away from the love of his life for Danny and Scout. That type of agony is unbearable. 

Jason sprints to her other side, hands landing on the bed. “Hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t think you should be in here. You're the reason she’s upset,” Franco warns over her with an undercurrent of protectiveness she neither wants or needs. 

She removes her grip from the sheets to slide her hand over Jason’s, concentrating on breathing so her machines don’t go into full alert, but needing to risk things a little to say, “I’m... sorry.” 

Through his concern, she can see a softness dawning in his gaze as he sees straight to the deeper meaning of her words. “I’ll be fine once you calm down, okay? Can you do that for me?” He soothes with raised eyebrows. 

She nods and closes her eyes again, focusing more on the hand curled over Jason’s rather than the one Franco places a gentle kiss upon. And it helps. The tightness in her lungs fades and she’s left as weary as a beginner having run a 5K marathon. 

She hears the relief in Jason’s exhale, followed by Franco’s rigid tone. “I think you should stay away from her.” 

That gives her the strength to lift her eyelids and see the blank stare Jason pins her husband with. “No... Jason’s my friend. That’s what... That's what happened right? We became friends again?” 

He ducks his gaze and turns his hand over so her hand fits in his. “Yeah. We became friends again,” he tells her in a quiet way that fills her stomach with a warmth she basks in. 

“Jason needs... a friend right now,” 

“Carly’s here,” Franco shoots down, outright glowering at Jason now. 

“Want him here,” she sighs, unyielding, squeezing Franco’s hand to bring his gaze down to hers. 

“And stay he will,” Carly promises upon entering the room with Sam noticeably absent. _“After_ he and I go eat this stuff. I know you want him to eat as much as I do, so I could really use your help to convince him.” 

She searches his expression and immediately pinpoints the beginnings of bruising under his eyes and the sheer will he’s using to try and keep his eyes alert. “Go, try to rest too,” she urges, rubbing her fingers into the side of his hand. 

He tries to hide his expression and the subtle change in his voice, but she spots the affection swirling in his gaze locked on their hands clear as day. “I’ll be fine.” 

He seems to edge his hand from hers as if reluctant to let go, then heads for the door with Carly following him out. She closes the door behind them. 

Elizabeth struggles to remain unaffected as the remnants of his touch lingers in pleasurable tingles across her skin and his look threatens to crack open the vault she keeps her love for him within. She can’t go down that path again. _It wouldn’t work. It never does._ She tries to reason with herself. But her heart... 

Her heart has never been one to see reason when it came to him. 

“Elizabeth... What was that?” his laugh is brief and filled with disbelief. “I mean you-you kind of looked oddly pleased to be friends with him again.” His insecurities oozes from him in waves. 

Lying with a bullet wound to the chest, she frankly doesn’t have it in her to be doting and reassuring as per usual. She just meets his worried gaze and sighs. “Of course... ’m happy. We share a child. Didn’t exactly enjoy bein’ at odds with him. ’m happy we’re friends again.” 

Franco plays with her fingers, keeping his eyes focused there. “And you don’t think he won’t try and win you back now that he’s no longer with Sam?” 

She tries to pull her hand away from his, feeling cold. “In other words, you don’t trust me.” 

He jumps in his seat. “No no no, that’s not what—” 

“How are the boys?” she asks over him after tucking her hands under the sheets and closing her eyes. 

“Elizabeth... I didn’t mean it that way. I just-you’ve made it clear how much the guy means to you.” 

She refuses to respond to that. 

“Can you at least tell me more about your condition and what I can do to help,” he asks gently in his wounded puppy tone. 

She opens her eyes part way and he takes the offering by stroking her hair with his fingers. “Dr. Jackson said ’m gonna have to take it easy for a month or two... and the memories I lost are gonna be recovered in time.” 

His features twist up in a worried manner. “So... you’re going to have to take off of work for a while huh?” 

Anxiety runs through her stomach like a serrated blade. She groans in dismay. They’re falling behind on their mortgage as it is and now _this._

“Damn it, I’m sorry! We can just talk about this later! Rest is more important right now,” he rushes while brushing his knuckles over her cheek. 

Her breath catches when she remembers. “A commission. You-that was supposed to pay off what we owe... put us ahead too,” she breathes in relief. 

Then notices his apologetic wince. 

_“Franco!”_ she gasps in shock. 

“I was afraid for you when I realized you were kidnapped and I needed to find you-look, why don’t you get some rest? You look beat. We can figure this stuff out later, I promise.” he assures her with a wide nervous grin. 

After the emotional roller coaster she’s experienced, ‘beat’ is an understatement. She gives in and takes his advice, tired of fighting sleep. Even so, she doubts her slumber will be anything but rejuvenating - not with this stress now weighing on her. 

—

The logs are gritty beneath her fingers as she runs her hands over it, feeling for any inconsistencies. There’s a blurriness about the scene, a sort of murkiness that mutes the details. But she can feel clearly. And there’s a choking panic expanding from her gut, hastening her movements and pounding through her head. 

Something pricks her finger and she smothers her yelp as quick as she can, jerking her hand back. She’s not stealthy enough. 

Large, warm hands swallow her shoulders making her realize just how chilled she is in comparison. “Come here,” he whispers and begins guiding her towards a faint source of light. 

She’s stood between his legs as he examines her finger. His hands are rough with callouses from years of hard work, opposite of that of a doctor’s and yet he strokes her skin like one; though, there’s an undercurrent of something more, something intense and stimulating. If everything wasn’t being consumed by the frantic need to keep moving practically crawling out of her skin, she’d say she feels a kindling heat in her belly, a heartbreaking want pumping her blood. 

The annoying pain subsides followed by the comforting brush of a rough thumb over her fingertip. “Just a little splinter,” he tells her in a quiet tone. 

Her fear runs deep and instead of gratitude, she lashes out. _“I don’t care! I’d take a thousand splinters if it meant—!”_ Air fails her for a moment and she tugs her hand out of his. “If it meant Jake wouldn’t lose the greatest father he’ll ever know and my world would continue to make sense.” 

The scene fades and becomes muddled. The sensations and emotions take root, different to the growing awareness of her surroundings Elizabeth now notices. The most prominent being the perpetual pull right beside her. Before she can even open her eyes she’s reaching towards Jason. A breathy exhale leaves her when his fingers wrap around her wrist. She opens her eyes and he's there with eyes intent on her. 

In the back of her mind, she notes the room is different, the lights are turned up, and how much clearer she feels - she must’ve slept for a while. But what holds her focus is her seemingly irrational worry which stretches her hand in his grasp towards his cheek. She feels a bit of her tension easing when she feels the subtle tilt of his head into her hand. His fingers climb up to trap her hand there even though escaping is the furthest thing from her mind as she swallows around a knot of fear. 

“Are you okay?” 

There’s a pinch of confusion that forms between his brows. “Yeah-yeah I’m fine. What’s wrong?” 

The tightness eases up and she flashes a smile, shaking her head. “It’s nothing,” she promises, then changes her mind. Sliding her fingers down so her fingertips rest at the center of his chest where his heart thumps, she focuses her eyes there for a moment before returning to the ensnarement of his gaze. “No, that’s a lie. I don’t want to lie to you. I just had a dream where I was really worried for you and I needed to make sure you were okay.” 

He studies her for a long moment in search of something before he nods once. “Okay,” he says in quiet acceptance before bringing her hand down on the bed clasped between his. “Um, Franco should be returning any minute since Carly flat out refused to grab him something from the cafeteria.” 

“Hey, I’m her fairy godmother. I’m supposed to help her not hinder her,” Carly points out from the other side of the room. 

Elizabeth jolts and looks to see the woman lounging on the couch with phone in hand. Carly lifts her head up and gives her a teasing wave coupled with a mischievous smile before focusing back on her phone. Elizabeth stares in stunned silence, not having realized anyone else was present. The reality of Jason being her friend again is apparently scrambling her sense of the outside world. 

She raises her unoccupied hand to run through her hair before settling her eyes back on Jason. He’s looking at her with a tiny, fond smile that lights up his eyes. It’s impossible to fight her blush at such beauty. “What?” she asks with a smile of her own. 

“It’s nothing. It’s just good to see you getting better,” he admits. “They’ve done an MRI just to confirm your amnesia, and you’re going to be transferred to GH within the hour.” 

She blinks wide eyes at him. “Wow, I really must’ve been out of it. It’s Friday now.” 

“Yeah, well with the kidnapping and the gunshot wound... You need the rest.” 

She frowns, not liking his subdued tone and that he won’t meet her eyes. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. I’m going to be fine, Jason.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just sweeps his fingertips over the inside of her wrist in a way that both calms and excites her. “Are you looking forward to seeing the boys?” he asks looking at her from under his raised brows. 

It’s an obvious evasion, but one she allows. “Oh, I can’t wait to hold them in my arms! I’m gonna smother them with so much love and attention they’re gonna get sick of me,” she gushes, grinning from ear to ear. 

His eyes smile, melting her insides. “I can’t wait to see them too.” He straightens up and presses his lips together briefly and she picks up on the change in mood to something serious. “But there’s something you and I agreed upon that you should know.” 

She curls her hand into his, nodding despite the nervous drum under her skin. “Okay.” 

“Cyrus Renault is a very dangerous issue, and until he’s dealt with, we agreed that we... that I should stay away. So after I see Jake, I’m going to keep my distance.” 

All her enthusiasm sinks into a quiet disappointment. 

“Okay.” She quickly slaps on an understanding smile at seeing the genuine regret in his crestfallen expression. “Really, I understand. I guess I’m going to just miss seeing you around, which is weird because you were avoiding me for like two weeks after I yelled at you - which I’m _really_ sorry for, by the way. And it’s not like I didn’t miss seeing you then, despite what I told myself. I guess I was just really looking forward to seeing you more often and not having to worry about being on guard and overly defensive, especially since you’re the person one who-oh god I should just, you know, shut up now.” She groans and covers her face with her hand slightly mortified until she hears the gooey warmth of his laughter. 

She lowers her hand and is captured by his tender look. “I’m going to miss seeing you too,” he assures her in that soft, endearing way she adores. 

Bit by bit his expression changes. His stare becomes quiet and intense, and she stills in anticipation, her thoughts turning to mush. In a careful progression, he reaches for her. His fingertips trail across her forehead and slowly tuck her hair behind her ear before feathering over her jaw as he draws back. Her skin comes alive, flushed with warmth and dazzling tingles. She stares at him within a daze, her throat dry. Curling her hand tighter around his, she waits in anticipation for how next move. 

And then the traitorous machine at her bedside gives her reaction away without remorse which is made all the worse when Jason doesn’t bother to hide the smugness in his smile. And with Carly busting a gut two seconds later, Elizabeth buries herself beneath her cover with an exaggerated moan of embarrassment. 

_“You guys are being really mean right now!”_

Carly pulls herself together long enough to gasp, “Actually I don’t think we’ve done _nearly enough.”_

She feels a tug on her covering, but only relents enough to reveal her eyes. Despite his best efforts, Jason is all smiles. “I’m sorry.” 

_“Uh-huh.”_

He ducks his head as if that could hide his laugh. When he meets her eyes again, he appears utterly content. She loses her breath. “I couldn’t help myself with you.” 

She’s lowering her cover when Franco and Dr. Jackson walk in. All eyes turn to them. 

Franco has an open bag of Doritos in hand, his eyes looking between her and Jason who’s already shifted back to a more respectable distance. It’s only then that it dawns on her that what occurred between them was along the lines of flirting. 

“What’s uh... What’s going on?” 

Her mouth opens, but guilt smothers any words that could form. 

Carly’s heels cut through the tension with a decisive click as she stands. “Just a little friendly teasing. Come on, Jason. Let’s let the doctor have a final visit with Elizabeth before she’s loaded up into the ambulance.” 

As they leave, Franco moves to her side and kisses her forehead. She gives him a loving smile, reminding herself that she and Jason are just friends with a long history and nothing more. 

And even if she wanted more... he would never allow it out of fear for her and her kids.


	8. 7

**_Friday, September 18, 2020_**   
**_General Hospital_**

Elizabeth is wheeled into her place of work first noticing the front desk, then the beige stairs leading up off to the side, and finally three boys dashing towards her. Her gurney halts when Cameron reaches her and gingerly embraces her. And all the anticipation during the ride of seeing them again floods out the moment she smells the warm vanilla scent of her first born. The tears come fast and easy as she curls her arm around him and reaches out blindly, feeling the smooth hair of her baby Jake. Cameron pulls away with a sniffle and she tugs Jake’s head to her chest pressing her cheek to his crown. Aiden is lifted by Cameron and hugs her just as soft. A little sob escapes her as she buries her fingers into his dark curls and presses a kiss to his hair. “I love you boys so much,” she warbles through her tears. 

The teary chorus of, “We love you too,” melts her heart and she reaches for them all uncaring of the flash of pain that travels through her chest; she just wants to hide them all inside her where they'll be safe, protected, and loved eternally. But eventually she does have to let them go so she can breathe, and that's when Jake spots something she can't see. 

_“Dad!”_

The paramedic is kind enough to turn her gurney in time for her to see the reunion. And despite Jake being 11 now, Jason still hauls him up into his arms in a tight embrace, tucking Jake’s head into his neck where he places a soft kiss to the side of Jake’s head. Elizabeth’s heart swells at the tender sight, and more tears drip down her cheeks. She watches as Jason whispers something for only Jake to hear, sees the adoration in his eyes as he strokes their son’s head, and feels regret eat away at her insides. Jason has so much love to give to his kids and those not even his own that it's downright cruel for him to have to stay away. 

A hand encircles hers and she smiles up at Franco and starts to dry her tears, when dark curls hurry by out of the corner of her eye. Her jaw drops as Jason sets Jake down and squats before Aiden who in her recollection she hasn't really introduced him to since Jason’s return. 

“Mr. Jason! I'm glad to see you're okay!” Aiden greets with a little bounce. 

Jason laughs lightly, smiling with genuine happiness shining in his eyes. “Hey, I'm glad to see you're okay too.” 

“I had made you some oatmeal raisin cookies last week but you and mom went missing. Ms. Monica was really nice and helped me make some more since you were coming back today,” Aiden explains while reaching into the pocket of his sweater, revealing the saran wrapped cookies in question. “I think you're gonna like them.” 

Elizabeth covers her mouth as tears run freely. _It was him?_

Jason takes them with soft warmth twinkling in his eyes. 

“You're going to love them,” Jake insists with a proud grin. 

And Jason gives a short laugh. “I know I will. Thanks Aiden,” he says with sincerity before pulling her little boy into a hug. 

Her shoulders shake from her silent cries and her ribs protest keenly but she doesn't care. Jason helped her baby without her even knowing. 

He looks over Aiden’s shoulder meeting her gaze and begins to herd her boys to her. She lets go of Franco’s hand and practically yanks Jason into her arms when he's near enough, tucking her face into his shoulder as her emotions spill messily from her grasp. Gratitude, elation, want, and so much love she shakes from it. _“Thank you,”_ she weeps, trying to convey just how much she appreciates everything he's done for her. 

“Shh,” he soothes, brushing his fingers through the back of her hair. “Can you calm down for me?” he breathes and she nods refusing to let go as her staggered breaths gradually even out, comforted by his scent. 

When her fingers finally ease their grip on his leather jacket, she feels utterly sapped. He pulls from her arms, seeming to tuck her hair behind her ear without thought before stepping further back. His hands go into his jean pockets. “I’m going to let the doctors tend to you now, okay?” 

“I’ll see you later?” she asks in a tone thick with emotion, waiting to see him catch her meaning. He may be gone from her life for a while, but this isn't _goodbye._

He looks down as a lopsided grin overtakes his lips, and when he looks up his eyes warm pools. “I’ll see you later, Elizabeth.” 

She watches him make his way back to Monica who's quick to embrace him with Carly and Joselyn happily watching the reunion off to the side before her gurney is wheeled off. Her boys follow along, asking questions her mind is growing too fuzzy to catch. What she does note before she drifts off is the quiet manner in which Franco watches her with his hand curling around hers. 

— 

**_Friday, October 2, 2020_**   
**_Webber-Baldwin Living Room_**

In the week that was required of her to stay within the hospital, her boys and Franco had visited her everyday. It was during their first visit that she was able to find out how Jason and Aiden had met. 

Aiden had been sat beside her on her bed, tucked against her right side - the side that hurt less - as he told his story. “I was sitting away from the other kids waiting for the bus to go home and I noticed this guy approaching. He was _huge,_ like one of those action movie stars or something!” he had exclaimed with wide stretched arms that had made Jake and Cameron snicker. 

She honestly hadn’t been able to withhold a giggle either, but she had noticed Franco’s lack of amusement out of the corner of her eye before Aiden had continued. 

“But then I recognized him from some of the pictures you have, mom. But really it was something about his eyes or, I don’t know, he just felt safe,” Aiden had shrugged and looked down almost as if curling inward in shyness about admitting such a thing. 

“Hey, I felt the same way when I first saw him too,” Jake had confided with a smile, leaning closer from his chair on her left side. 

“Yeah, Jason’s the kind of guy you can trust if you need him,” Cameron had added with conviction. 

It had made her heart light and fluttery as she hugged Aiden and kissed his forehead. “If you ever need help and Jason’s around, he’ll help you and keep you safe, baby.” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea-I mean, shouldn’t the authorities be their first priority if they get in a bind,” Franco had voiced with a firmness that had rankled a nerve. 

She had snapped her gaze his way, fixing him a look that introduced the dead of winter to her room. The silence had been thick as he sat unwavering under her glare. “Are you saying the authorities would’ve saved Cameron that night?” 

“You did kind of waste time calling Jason first, so we wouldn’t know.” His tone had been clipped, certain. 

“I called them within two minutes after Jason and, from what I understand, they arrived well after the fact-you know what? You and I will discuss this later,” she had bitten out while turning away from him, not wanting her blood pressure to get out of hand at him implying such a ridiculous thing. 

Instead, she had stroked Aiden’s head and addressed her boys. “Yes, the father of one of my beautiful boys,” she had swept Jake’s hair back and it fell back in place in disarray, thawing the tension as she and her boys laughed, “is someone you all can trust wholeheartedly,” she had told them with pride, ending that discussion. 

She had been relieved to finally go home and get to be surrounded by the hustle and bustle of three rambunctious boys again. But there was, and still is, a Jason sized tension between her and her husband. Because, in spite of Jason’s complete absence in their lives as promised, he’s very much present in her thoughts all the time. 

And for her first week back, she had been able to ignore the suspicious sweep of Franco’s gaze around their house after returning home from giving art therapy at GH. She was alone for hours - plenty of time to have an affair, right? He never said anything, never verbally accused her of such a thing like her former husband Lucky who couldn't go two breaths without doing. But Franco’s insecurities had made his worries obvious regardless. 

Everyday he had brought her either flowers or a sweet she enjoyed or even a sketch of her he’d done that day. He would massage her feet or put on a movie she loved and overall do his best to pamper her. And the romantic gestures would normally be sweet. But knowing the reason behind them had made her smiles stiff and their closeness awkward. 

It made her thoughts drift more towards Jason than away. 

Like, what would it feel like to lie on her couch with Jason on the other end with her feet in his lap? And how would it feel to have him beside her with her head on his shoulder as she listened to him talk to her about how his life has been recently? Would he hold her close while drawing tingling patterns up and down her arm? And the things he said before, about missing her eyes and her voice... Would he want to kiss her? 

She had tried to forcibly bury such daydreams, knowing it’s not fair to Franco and that even though Jason is on the outs with Sam, they would overcome this new hurtle as they always do. But at the start of week two of being home from the hospital, she’ll realize that trying to pretend her feelings for Jason are in the past is pointless. 

Franco has a legitimate reason to worry. 

Grabbing her burgundy pea coat and tying the belt around her waist, Elizabeth steps out into the blustery air, feeling her breath catch as the October wind cuts into her. It’s probably not the best thing to do, heading out into such chilly conditions while recovering from a chest wound, but it’s just a walk down the driveway to the mailbox. Besides, she’s supposed to be increasing her stamina a little each day and she’s never been one to rely on others if she can absolutely help it anyway. 

The morning is gray and crisp, broken up by the brown, orange, yellow, and red of fallen leaves. She reaches the black box and pulls out a few envelopes, casting a stealthy glance at the house across the street before turning to head back in. Once inside, she places the heel of her hand on her forehead as a wave of vertigo sways her on her feet. When it passes, she groans, quickly taking off her coat and parking herself on the coach. “At least I managed a little over an hour on my feet today,” she grumbles and begins to look over the mail with the morning news droning on in the background. 

She sets two pieces of mail aside for Franco as words from the female news anchor starts to filter into her mind. 

_“...explosion of three warehouses on the waterfront. Several casualties have been reported so far as police canvas the area.”_

She jerks her head up seeing the charred remains of the warehouses in question as her heart strains. 

_“This is the third incident of violence taking place on the waterfront property in the past week. With the recent release of the alleged criminal Cyrus Renault, it’s believed these are the makings of a mob war. Mayor Collins has urged citizens of Port Charles to avoid the waterfront, if you can, and remain indoors at night. The police are doing everything they can to—”_

She switches the TV off and stares at her darkened reflection in a daze. Each heartbeat is filled with anxiety as her hands begin to tremble. _There were casualties. What if one was him?_ She scrambles to grab her cellphone on the coffee table in front of her. The screen is lit up, her finger about to descend on number two of her speed dial when she takes a deep rational breath. 

“He wanted to stay away for a reason. To protect us and to focus,” she whispers and takes another slow breath. She navigates to her photo app and finds a picture taken over a month ago. He and Jake face the camera with identical smiles and radiant eyes tugging on her heartstrings with ease. 

She sets her phone face down, controlling her breathing and blinking back worried tears. “He’s okay. _He’s okay damn it._ He wouldn’t want you to drive yourself crazy over this,” she mumbles, then collects her fallen mail in hopes of a distraction. 

An invoice from her insurance company turns up in her hands simultaneously giving her something to focus on and outright dread. Tearing it open, she quickly searches for the grand total, wanting to rip the band-aid off. When she sees the near three figure number, the paper almost falls from her grasp as her heart goes into overdrive. 

“It- _it shouldn’t be that much!”_ she gasps in horror, scanning the paper to find the error, because there _has_ to be one, only to find out that’s not the case. Because her surgery and ICU stay took place _outside of the country,_ it wasn’t covered by her insurance. The money owed is correct. 

_“Oh god.”_ There’s no way she could ever hope to pay this back on top of the mortgage already due. “What’re we going to do?” she whimpers. Temples throbbing as it feels like she’s sinking into darkened waters, she picks up her phone and begins punching in the number to her insurance company. _There has to be something we can do. I have to go back to work. Maybe Epiphany will let me do paperwork-wait. What?_ So busy focusing on the amount due, she missed the three most important words of her life written beneath it. 

_Paid in full._

Mouth gaping, she’s a few seconds off on her cue to respond to the woman over the phone. “Uh, hi this is Elizabeth Baldwin. I was wondering if you could tell me who paid for my latest hospital bills?” 

After confirming her personal information, the woman gives her a cheery answer. “Okay, Mrs. Baldwin, it says here that all medical expenses for your care are being paid for by a Mr. Jason Morgan.” 

Elizabeth rests her forehead against the heel of her palm trying to settle her nerves as relief floods through her. Of course this is his doing. “Oh, okay,” she breathes positively winded from her whiplash of emotions in a matter of minutes. 

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“No, that’s all. Thank you.” She ends the call. With her head resting in both of her hands now, she sits with her elbows on her knees trying to process everything. There’s no way she can let him do this. It’s too much money. She won’t feel right until she can pay him back, _which she will._ She tosses the paper down on the coffee table and brings up the dialer again. In the back of her mind, she knows this is just an excuse to hear his voice and know that he’s safe, but she goes through with it anyway. 

Heart hammering in her throat, she listens to the trill of the ringing tone. 

_“This is Jason Morgan. Leave your message,”_ is his bland message followed by a beep. 

Caught off guard, she sputters a bit. “Ja-Jason I, um, I need to see you. It’s important. I know you said it’s not safe to be seen together right now and I understand, but,” she wets her lips, fingers curling into her thigh as the need to have him in front of her overrides all sense of reason. “Last week we got new neighbors across the street. The boys and Franco didn’t notice, but I could tell from the way the men carried themselves and the alertness of their eyes that they were guards. I would be a fool not to recognize that after being around you for nearly half my life.” 

When she realizes she’s rambling she squeezes her eyes closed through the rise in heat in her cheeks. “What I’m trying to say is maybe if you’re sure it’s safe enough, you can come over… and be as discreet as they are. Day or night, I don’t care, I just... need to see you. And please be safe.” She ends the call before she can sound too much like she’s mooning over him. 

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” she murmurs and twists the simple silver band Franco got to replace her damaged wedding ring, wondering when the guilt of what she’s doing will come. And it’s there like a stone upsetting her stomach - regret for how this will hurt Franco, but not for what she wants. She’ll never feel guilty for wanting Jason. 

Balling up and tossing the invoice in the kitchen bin, she climbs the stairs, intent on taking her daily nap a little early today. 

— 

She’s roused by the most incredible sensations of a wandering hand. It trails over her collarbone, then feels over her breasts in unhurried exploration. She quivers as bolts of heat pool down low. 

“I’ve mapped your body out over and over…” he rumbles with his lips teasing the shell of her ear. His hand splays over her stomach, his thumb rubbing circles over a spot beside her navel. She gasps at the sparks flaring out from his touch. “This mole right here,” his fingers slide over the inside of her hip, “these beautiful marks here,” her heart flutters before she chokes out a keen moan when his hand dips between her thighs, his middle finger now tracing sharp circles over her clit, “and your pretty, pink slit… it never gets old,” he groans, his heavy breathing filling her ears driving her wild. 

His urgency crackles through her as he nudges her legs apart, grinding his cock against her aching slit before sinking in. Her face contorts as an unbridled moan of ecstasy is torn from her, the pleasure blinding. “I keep wanting more,” he says roughly before guiding her face towards his and claiming her lips with his own. 

Elizabeth gasps awake, wound tight and pulsing with heat until she realizes Jason’s not there. It was just a dream. In fact, she had turned in for the night with Franco. 

It takes her several moments of steady breathing before she’s able to curb her libido. That's when she covers her face with an internalized groan of shock at how wild her imagination is. She’s in bed with her husband dreaming of another man. She’s grateful Franco didn’t wake up so she doesn't have to explain it or remind him that sex is out of the question for at least another four weeks. With a sigh, she slides her hands down from her face, wondering if calling Jason was a mistake— 

A hum vibrates through the air, grabbing her attention. 

Her phone on her night stand. She picks it up, recognizing the vibration must’ve been what woke her up. Careful to keep the light from her screen from disturbing Franco behind her, she notes it’s after midnight and reads the message. 

_Come out to your backyard._

Her breath catches. _Jason._

Franco inhales deeply and she stills. He turns over, removing his arm from her waist. She waits several heartbeats to make sure he’s settled before pulling up her keyboard. 

_I’ll be right there._

— 

Wrapped tight in her coat, she steps out through her backdoor. Immediately, her breath forms clouds and she wraps her arms around herself. While the air is no longer windy, it’s still pretty icy and she feels it slicing in her lungs. She looks to her right, seeing the house across the fence with darkened windows, ahead of her is her yard filled with leaves that need to be racked and the trees beyond the fence which extend around to the left where she sees no one. Brows creasing, she feels worry begin to twist her stomach. _I was only off by a few minutes. He couldn’t have left already, right?_

“Jason?” she doesn’t dare call out too loud, not wanting anyone in her house or her neighbors to hear. 

“I’m right here,” his voice is soft and to the left and she sees him peeking out from over the closed railing of her porch. 

She’s quick to descend the steps and make her way around the side of her house and into his arms. She holds him tight even though it hurts, cheek pressed against his chest through the opening of his leather jacket as she takes a deep breath of his scent. His hold is lighter, more careful, but no less warm as his hand cups the back of her head. She feels a light kiss pressed to the top of her hair. Two tears burn down her cheeks. An ache she hadn’t even registered inside fills up with him. He’s warm and _alive_ and she feels whole. 

“Hey,” his breathy voice melts over her and she shivers. “What’s wrong?” 

She sighs with fondness. Of course he would notice her tears. “I was just really worried about you,” she tells him above a breath. She leans back, wanting to see his eyes after so long, only to freeze. A gash about an inch long held together by steri-strips rests above his left brow. A surge of concern nearly sends her nerves into overdrive until years of medical experience wrangles her emotions into check. As light as a feather she prods around the wound. “What happened Jason?” 

The air between them clouds with his exhale. “I was just grazed by shrapnel. I’m fine.” 

_Shrapnel. He was ‘just’ grazed by shrapnel._ She doesn’t stop her examination, doesn’t take her eyes off the crimson line cut into his flesh. “Did you have someone look at this?” 

“Yes—” 

“Someone with medical experience?” She glares, feeling antsy. She wants to properly look at it herself, make sure it doesn’t actually need stitches. _What if he’s hiding some other wound? It wouldn’t be the first time—_

“Technically, Jason Quartermaine has medical experience,” he mutters under his breath and she goes to grab his wrist with the intent of yanking him inside, until he captures her hand and rushes out, “But yes, I did see Sonny’s doctor.” 

There’s laughter in his voice she doesn’t like and shows her displeasure with a firmer glare, finally meeting his eyes. His look is gooey warm and tender, the blue of his eyes beautiful and intense. His laughter fades as she swallows around her heart dancing in her throat, realizing his arm still curls around her waist. His fingers slowly thread through her own. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he seems to whisper absently, looking as entranced as she feels. 

She trembles from head to toe, mouth tingling as they inch closer. _This isn’t what friends do. But we’ve never been just friends. He’s my more than friend. The love of my life._ Just as her eyes begin to flutter shut, dangling on the precipice of something irrevocable, Jason tilts his head up and kisses her forehead instead. 

The air rushes out of her and she wants nothing more than to turn and run. _God, how could I be so stupid?! He doesn’t want me. He’ll never choose—_

“Don’t,” he breathes, firm, and she feels him shaking his head, feels his arm tightening around her waist. “Don’t... Just don’t leave. Stay. _Please,”_ he begs in a raspy voice and she feels another lingering kiss on her forehead. 

She melts into him, fears erased once she realizes why he didn’t kiss her. It wasn’t because he doesn’t want her. Far from it - they sway to some unknown tune with their hands twined and his arm cradling her close. It’s because her husband is upstairs asleep in bed and a mob war is just beginning. It’s not time yet. 

She lets out a shaky breath, nodding. “Okay.” 

He kisses her forehead again, then tucks her head under his chin. 

She sinks into his calming presence and the steady rocking motion between them. Safe, warm, and content she’s nearly asleep on her feet when he breaks the silence. 

“How have you been?” 

She hums. “I feel better each day.” She nuzzles his chest with a sigh. “You know I’m going to pay you back for my medical bills, right?” 

He groans and she giggles, knowing he’s getting ready to try and refuse her. “So that’s why you called.” 

“That and I wanted to make sure you were safe,” she admits feeling a pleasant buzz when he swishes his thumb over the back of her hand. 

“You know that’s not happening right?” he says, all humor lost. “You were shot because of me. There’s no way I would let you pay for that.” 

“But Jason, I wouldn’t feel right—” 

“I think you’re getting pretty cold,” he cuts in with an abrupt change of topic. 

She huffs and gently removes her hand from his in order to delve her hands into his jacket and encircle his waist, stealing more of his warmth. “I’m fine.” 

_“Elizabeth...”_ She suppresses her moan at the caress of her name on his lips. “You could get sick and that won’t do you any good.” 

_“You’re dead on your feet. Besides, what good would it do for us if you got sick?”_

“Elizabeth?” 

She jolts, a little confused as she feels his hand curved to her cheek, his eyes laced with concern. It felt like she zoned out, but... “Uh, yeah. Sorry, it just felt like you said something like that to me recently,” she answers faintly, then, before she can lose her nerve, leans up and presses her lips to his cheek in a lingering kiss. She draws away and lands in his heated gaze, feeling her stomach swoop in response. “You’re really sweet for caring.” 

He brushes his knuckles over her cheek. “You mean a lot to me.” 

She tugs around his waist and he moves closer, touching their foreheads together. “I know. And that’s the only reason I’m going back inside.” She doesn’t move immediately, memorizing the unique blend of blues that make up his eyes in order to fight saying the truth in her heart. “I’ll... see you later?” 

His lips tilt up on one side. “I’ll see you later.” 

Feeling the separation like the loss of an integral part of her, she slips from his arms and makes her way to her back door. Sharing one last look of what she can feel in her soul is mutual longing, she shuts the door between them and presses her head against the wood. 

Any doubts or denials she had about her and Jason evaporate. He wants to be with her and she with him. A giddiness bubbles under her skin stretching a wide smile across her lips. _This time feels different. This time we’re going to get it right, I know it._

She turns and rests her back against the door and trains her eyes towards the living room where the stairs lead up to her bedroom. “Now I just have to figure out how to handle Franco.”


	9. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I hadn't mentioned it before the layout to Elizabeth's house is different to that on the show.  
> Thank you all again for sticking with this story!

**_Friday, October 9, 2020_**  
 ** _General Hospital 10th Floor_**

The ding of elevators, the trill of phones, and the echo of voices over the intercom assault Elizabeth as she exits the exam room with a pleased grin. With the hospital layout ingrained in her mind, she confidentiality pulls out her phone and begins to type a message. 

_I just came from my follow up appointment and my doctor says I’m healing with flying colors! I’ve been taking my meds on time and doing my deep breathing exercises too... You know you should follow my lead and actually go to the hospital when you need help._

She snorts after hitting send, knowing it’s just wishful thinking. Jason hates hospitals with a passion. She tucks her phone into her pocket, not really expecting a response. She’s been texting him at least once a day since their midnight meeting in her backyard with a snippet of her day, a picture of Jake, Aiden, or Cam, or just her telling him to be safe - not necessarily looking for a response. She just wants him to know he’s in her thoughts. But sometimes he does respond hours later with something short, but meaningful. 

So she jumps, startling a nurse passing by her, when she feels vibrations from her pocket. Offering an apologetic smile, she slows her pace and retrieves her phone. 

_I prefer to be seen by the world’s best nurse. Besides, you’re all I need._

He has her heart hammering in seconds, a warm blush coating her cheeks. Her instant response is: _You’re all I need too._ But another message comes through before she can tap send. 

_I’m really glad you’re getting better._

Her fingers hover over the keyboard before she erases her message and sends a just as meaningful _Thank you,_ then promptly collides with a person. 

With nibble fingers honed from years of raising kids, she snatches her falling phone from the air while stammering apologies. “Oh, I’m-I am _so_ sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was...” she trails off as her focus finally settles on the person she crashed into and her pleasant mood _almost_ sours. “Going,” she finishes evenly. 

Sam gives her a blank stare, her hands rising in a sign for peace. “Hey, it’s no problem at all. I was a little preoccupied too.” Her hands drop and she looks around, seeming to fish for something to say. “Um, how are you? You were shot after all.” 

Elizabeth opens her mouth when a vibration pulses in her hand. She mumbles a quick, “Sorry, this is important,” and swiftly reads his message. 

_Have a good day, okay?_

Biting her lip does nothing to contain her smile as she types: _I will. Please be safe._

When she looks up, she sees Sam doing her best to remain cordial, but the creases framing her lips give her failing efforts away. “What was that, if you don’t mind me asking? You look like you just won ten million bucks.” 

Elizabeth no longer tries to hide her smile as she stuffs her phone in her pocket and curls her hair behind her ear. “No, it's something far more valuable than that. And to your earlier question, I’m well on my way to a full recovery. I kind of have to get going now, so if you’ll excuse me...” 

She walks around Sam only to feel her elbow caught in a hold. “Wait a minute. I think we should talk about what happened back in Canada,” Sam protests with all pretenses of friendliness dropped. 

Elizabeth sighs, annoyed that she’s not allowed to bask in the warm mood Jason gave her and unwillingly turns to face the irritated stare directed towards her. She raises an eyebrow, waiting. 

Sam rolls her eyes. “Look, you probably heard what I said about you—” 

“You mean when you implied I was dead-weight to Jason,” she fills in flatly. 

Sam waits a beat, then raises her brows as if shocked her message remains unclear. “I mean, _come on._ You got mortally wounded. You must know that you hinder him more than anything.” 

Elizabeth crosses her arms, piqued by her belittling tone and gives her I thin look. “No, I don’t know. I have amnesia, remember?” 

This stops Sam short. Her brows crease in uncertainty. “Wait, you don’t-you don’t remember what happened?” Elizabeth doesn’t dignify that with an answer, so Sam crosses an arm under her chest gesticulating with her other. “So Jason’s the only one who knows what went down? Don’t you wanna know?”

“Honestly, I don’t even care, because, to me, the most important thing that came out of the time I missed is—” she cuts herself off, suddenly aware of the public setting they’re having this conversation and how anyone could hear her admit that her friendship with Jason has been revived. She shakes her head, straightening up. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I have someplace I have to be,” she ends their talk and strides towards the 10th floor elevators. Pressing the down button, she internally grumbles. _So much for having a good day._

— 

Elizabeth picks up Cameron’s gray sweatshirt haphazardly thrown over the backseat of the kitchen chair and sits it in the basket of clothes she’s carrying that need laundering. When she feels her ribs and chest muscles pinch, she strides towards the laundry room knowing she's at her lifting limit. Tossing the clothes inside the washing machine, she hears the front door creak open. Looking towards the old fashioned pink digital clock positioned on the folding table, she notes the time. _12:35 p.m.._ She rolls her eyes. _Right on time._

Instead of starting the machine, she walks on silent, socked feet to the kitchen where she peaks around the corner. Franco peers around couches and under pillows, searching for something with diligence. She presses herself against the wall, breaking her visual of him with a sigh. This is the second time in the past week he’s come home with the excuse of wanting to have lunch with her when she knows he’s just trying to catch her in the act. She wonders not for the first time why she hasn't broached the topic of separation with him yet. 

“Misplaced something?” she asks in faux concern, coming around the corner. 

He jumps and whirls to face her, posture tight as a wound up spring. “Uh, I was just, uhh, trying to straighten the cushions, you know, because the boys and me were kind of rough housing earlier. Sorry, by the way,” he sputters sheepishly and begins fixing the cushions that were straight before he arrived. “And I also thought we could have lunch again, because it was so great last time.” 

She crosses her arms and looks to the side feeling her ponytail spill over her shoulder. “Or you wanted to see if Jason was here.” 

The already quiet room becomes a vacuum of nothing for several moments. 

Franco erects himself slowly, not meeting her eyes. “That’s not what this is.” 

She takes a step towards him. “Oh yeah? You don’t think I’ve caught on to your near daily inspection of our house?” 

He looks at her now, silent. 

She deliberates her next words. “You don’t trust me. And...” she trails off at the stormy look forming within his dark eyes. 

A feeling of abject dread swells in her belly turning her limbs to lead. 

She changes her words, heeding some unknown instinct to table the topic of divorce for later. “And I understand. I mean, I did lie to Drew about his identity when I thought he was Jason just to keep him. What’s to say I won’t take advantage of our rekindled friendship?” she shrugs and drops her hands to her thighs where she grips the end of her shirt and tugs lightly. 

When he slides his hands up her arms, he softens to resemble a Labrador asking for forgiveness. “That’s not true. I do trust you. It’s just that, well have you seen the guy?” his question is phrased rhetorically as he laughs, but when she doesn’t answer he drops one hand and lifts the other to his hair. “I mean, if he wanted you-it looked like he wanted you-I’m pretty sure he would try and seduce you and maybe succeed...” He turns away before she can think of something to interject with. “Why would you want me when you could have him?” he finishes with a self-deprecating chortle. 

She wrings her hands together, navigating the minefields of their conversation. “Jason is much too busy fighting a war to spare me a thought,” she says then realizes that doesn't exactly confirm or deny his worries. Rushing to stand before him, she takes his hand in hers with an encouraging smile. “Why don’t we just have lunch, okay? You don’t want to be late getting back.” 

He watches his hand as it glides up her arm with a growing heat in his gaze. The hairs on the back of her neck raise. “Actually, I figured you and I could spend our time doing something else...” he suggests in a husky rumble. 

She pulls her hands away. “Franco, my ribs aren’t going to be fully healed until next week and it advisable to wait another two weeks after that.” 

He leans away with clear eyes. “Oh, shit I forgot. I’m sorry, I guess I just miss being with you. Just another thing to blame Jason for,” he says the last part under his breath in frustration. 

She bites her tongue to not to call him out on it. “I’m sorry.” 

He shakes his head, cupping her arms. “Nah, you have nothing to be sorry for. I guess I should go though. You’re right. I shouldn’t be late.” And then he swoops down and kisses her. 

She was used to how his kisses felt. Safe, normal, and lacking a spark, but they were something she could work with. Now as his tongue strokes hers, she struggles to remain lax in his hold and not jerk back, repulsed as if she were kissing a guy strictly in the friend’s zone. When he finally pulls away, her smile is winning and stays that way until the door closes behind him. Only then does she sink to the couch with her head in her hands. 

She groans in dismay. “Oh god. I have three weeks to break up with him. That shouldn’t be hard, right?” 

— 

**_Friday, October 16, 2020_**  
 ** _Webber-Baldwin Living Room_**

A firm rapping jolts Elizabeth back into consciousness. Mind foggy from sleep, she’s delayed in catching something as it tumbles from her lap. She sucks in a sharp breath when sticky, melted ice cream sloshes over the tub’s rim and onto her clean, wood floor. _“Damn it!”_ she hisses as her mind tries to catch up. 

On the TV ahead of her the screensaver for the Blu-ray player drifts across the screen and she remembers she was watching Aiden’s favorite Disney film, _Tangled._ She recalls the scene where Flynn and Rapunzel got trapped in a small cave with rising water and then… nothing. She rises to her feet, irritated by the mess and downright confused. She thought she had been regaining her energy back, but the past few days it's felt like she's been back at square one, falling asleep at the drop of a dime. 

It’s been a month since her ICU stay and she was getting ready to see if she could go back to work, but now she’s not even sure if she could handle doing simple markups. She shuffles towards the kitchen, wincing as her bra sends pangs through her chest. And now the soreness there seems to have returned with a vengeance as well. She’s starting to consider going to see a doctor. There could be something wrong with her recovery that she’s not seeing— 

A harder knock sounds, and she recognizes the reason why she woke up to begin with. 

Cursing again, she calls, “Coming!” Depositing the carton of melted ice cream in the sink, she walks as fast as her aches allow, wanting nothing more than to rip off her bra and burn it. She peers through the peephole and takes a moment to tilt her head towards the sky and groan. Opening the door wide, she gives Carly’s wide grin an unenthusiastic, “Hi,” then turns back into her house where a mess awaits her. 

The thud of Carly’s boots on the floor entering behind her precede the shutting of the door. “What’s crawled up your butt?” she asks in a voice lacking bite. 

Elizabeth opens the faucet, dumps the liquid ice cream, and rinses it down the drain. After throwing it in the garbage with a little more force than usual, she pulls on rubber gloves and starts to partially fill a bucket with soapy water. “I fell asleep,” she snaps then brushes past Carly on her way to the couch. 

“You fell asleep…?” 

Coming to her knees, she takes her damp sponge and grits her teeth as she scrubs. “I fell asleep, which is ridiculous because I’ve been needing to rest less and less lately. But these past few days, it’s like I can’t get enough,” she grouses, feeling strained as she sits up to rinse and wring the sponge in the water before leaning over again. “And I fell asleep with ice cream during a great movie! I mean how am I supposed to go back to work if I can barely keep my eyes open?” 

She senses Carly a little ways behind her. “It’s only been, what a month? You can wait a little longer—” 

“And that’s not all,” she continues barreling over Carly feeling like a burst dam. “Almost every night it's Jason, Jason, _Jason.”_

“Franco’s been harassing you about him?” There’s a touch of concern in her tone, but Elizabeth hardly hears it, sitting up as her shoulders slump. 

“No! He’s in my _dreams,”_ she moans feeling as if her emotions are building up like a geyser she can't contain as she leans her forehead against her wrist. “I think I’m going insane, because it’s something different _every_ time. It makes me feel like some sort of sex addict and now-now I can’t even look my husband in the eye without wanting to ask for a divorce. I’m not even attracted to him anymore - he feels like my freaking _brother,”_ the sponge splats on the ground when she drops it in her sudden need to rip her bra off from under her shirt, “and my chest keeps killing me because of this stupid _thing—!”_

Hands grab her wrists and hold them down in her lap. “Hey, hey, hey stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself,” Carly says sternly. 

Elizabeth goes limp feeling the embarrassing sting of tears in her eyes. She keeps her eyes locked on the wet spots from her gloves darkening her cotton pants. “Go ahead. You can kick me while I’m down,” she offers with no strength in her voice. Her vulnerability is on display like blood in an ocean. 

“Mmm, you know the old Carly would’ve jumped at the chance, but… I can see you're having a bad day. So! As you’re appointed fairy godmother, I’m gonna need you to go get cleaned up while I put this stuff away,” Carly releases her wrists and starts collecting the sponge and bucket while Elizabeth watches, her throat tight. 

“...Thank you,” she croaks in gratitude. She knows it must’ve been hard for Carly to turn her down. She peels off her gloves and hands them over to Carly who remains sincere before doing as told. 

She returns sans her bra in a baggy sweatshirt, her arms loosely curled around her chest, certain the strange truce between them is a fluke. Carly sits in the couch chair with one leg crossed over the other as she sips on a cup of coffee she helped herself to. Fiendish delight gleams in her eyes. 

Elizabeth waits for the blow. 

“Soo, sex addict?” 

Not what she was expecting, but she groans anyway and plops down on her sofa. “I can’t believe I said that.” Then a tendril of unease slithers down her spine as she realizes what her outburst from before gave away. “Have you, uh, seen Jason recently by chance?” she fishes while fiddling with the edge of her sweatshirt. 

Carly sits forward a little, her expression losing it’s teasing edge. “Yeah, I don’t get to see him as often ‘cause he and Sonny are putting their heads together for the war thing. But I see him more than you’ve gotten to… He’s fine,” she nods with a kind smile hammering in her message, and a knot in Elizabeth’s chest starts to loosen. “But to answer your _actual_ question, yeah I know about what’s going on between you two. So you can talk to me about it if you need too.” 

The knot falls apart and Elizabeth leans fully into the couch cushions, tentatively accepting this odd development with Carly. “Okay. I was a little fuzzy on all that was said in Canada, but I remember you saying you were my fairy godmother of all things... And I guess I just realized how few friends I have,” she admits in a small, quiet voice as she stares at the dust motes drifting through the air within the shafts of afternoon sunlight. “I used to talk about this stuff with Emily when she was alive, and Robin before she moved away. There’s Epiphany, but…” she flicks her gaze to Carly seeing the look of understanding in her eyes. “So thanks for offering to listen.” 

Carly shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. “This is more for me anyway. I mean, I’ve already squeezed as much about this out of Jason as I could. Now I want to hear your side.” 

Elizabeth laughs, shaking her head at Carly’s excuse for being nice, but lets it go. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy the dreams - god, far from it - it’s just that I wake up, and... Jason’s not there. Franco is,” she sighs miserably. “And besides needing another two weeks before I’m allowed to be intimate again, I don’t want him anymore. I just see him as a really good friend now. I was going to try and talk to him about getting a divorce last week, but I hesitated and—” 

“Whoa, whoa. Wait a second. Time out,” Carly rushes out, setting her mug down as she leans forward. Elizabeth is taken aback by the alarm blazing in her pastel blue eyes. “You can’t do that.” 

Elizabeth’s spine stiffens and a flash of anger expands in her chest as she narrows her eyes. She knew this was too good to be true. “If this is about trying to get Sam back with Jason—” 

“No! This—” Carly huffs, taking a second to order her words. “Jason doesn’t want Sam anymore. He made that very clear to me back in Canada which is why I’m even doing all this.” 

Elizabeth drops her guard halfway, squinting at Carly in caution. “So what do you mean I ‘can’t’?” 

“Look, Jason said he tried to talk to you about this before the kidnapping, but you bit his head off before he could.” 

Slumping in her seat, she’s overcome with regret. “He said that?” 

Carly grimaces, guilty. “I kind of used those words more or less.” 

“You wouldn’t be wrong...” 

Carly waves her hand as if brushing away the matter. “The point is, he told me that Sam said something about Franco that had him worried. Do you remember Manny Ruiz?” she lays the question out slowly. 

Elizabeth flinches anyway at the reminder of that sick monster. “Of course I do, he kidnapped me. He had us all fooled when he used his tumor as—” Her words abruptly die off as a terror like no other snares around her throat and yanks her under frigid waters. She can't- _she can’t breathe._

The shapes and colors in her vision become blurry and distant with darkness creeping in on all sides. Her ears fill with the peeling ring of a high frequency as her heartbeat surges faster and faster, frantic to escape the danger snapping at its heels. 

“...beth! ...to _breathe!”_

A faint voice tries to dip into her awareness, but all she can see is the man she welcomed into her kid’s lives. _What have I done?!_

_“Breathe_ damn it! Think about Cameron, Jake, Aiden, and Jason. _They need you!”_ Carly shouts desperately, cutting through the stabbing ice surrounding her. 

Elizabeth surfaces with a ragged breath, the vice around her neck loosening the bare minimum. 

“Good, now breathe in and out. In. Out,” Carly instructs, and Elizabeth blearily notices her head is being held between her knees. 

“‘s not true! Can’t be! It’s been _years,”_ she gasps in denial, needing her words to be the truth. 

Carly’s hand rubs over her back. “Hey, just focus on getting your breathing even first. What if something serious happened? This time it wouldn’t have been funny,” she adds in strained jest. 

The odd comment is enough to throw her off. She gains more control of her breathing in those precious seconds and is able to relinquish her death grip on her thighs, lifting shaking hands to her wet face instead. “Oh god. It can’t be true! Because if it is then he’s lied about _everything,”_ she sobs openly, her shoulders shaking with each heave. “Everything has always been about Jason with him since he came to town. He probably formed that bond with Jake because he’s Jason’s son. He probably wanted me because I’m what Jason wants but can’t have.” 

She sucks in a breath, hands falling to bunch at her chest as her stomach rocks worse than a boat in stormy waters. Her eyes find Carly who fidgets like a woman out of her depth. “What if he lied about Sam? That was one of his greatest offenses - he could’ve lied about not raping her,” she sees Carly’s face blanch and everything inside becomes painfully tight. “Oh god, I slept with a rapist.” She takes two short breathes before she's dashing to the bathroom as her stomach lurches. 

— 

She emerges from the bathroom after she’s up-heaved every emotion that was threatening to immobilize her - fear, anguish, _disgust_ \- until she’s left hollow and worn. What keeps her on her feet, what steels her spine is determination. Determination to pack her kids out of that house _now._

Carly forms a barricade that keeps her from taking action. “Wait, I know what you’re thinking because above all else, Elizabeth, you’re a good mother. But I want you to think about this for a second - _really think,”_ Carly demands firmly. 

Elizabeth waits, frame rigid. 

“If you take those kids out of this house today and Franco was lying the whole time, what’s to stop him from going after you?” 

Elizabeth tries to push past her. “I’ll go to the police and tell them he’s been faking the whole time and we’re in danger.” 

Carly doesn’t budge. “They won’t treat you seriously without any evidence. After you’ve been singing his praises all these years and with his status as a town hero, they’ll just think this is a marriage problem you should take to a therapist. You and I both know how slippery Franco can be when he wants. And before you think the guards can protect you,” Carly talks over her before she can voice her protest, “You’ve got two across the street and three who are only on duty tailing the kids when they’re at school. That’s it. Things are strained with this war going on, and Sonny and Jason are inaccessible most of the time - even to me,” Carly explains, slow and rational to the point where Elizabeth begins to feel trapped in a small dark corner with no escape. 

“And don’t forget that Cyrus Renault is very much still a threat. He might be the one who grabs you, if you decide to leave.” 

Elizabeth draws her arms around herself, curling inward as the reality truly begins to set in. 

Carly looks pained and sympathetic as she places her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders. “I hate to say this Elizabeth, but we only have one thing working for you right now: Franco’s belief that he still has you snowed.” 

She thought she was all wrung out, but somehow hot tears seep from her eyes. “He’s going to expect me to sleep with him soon and-and I can’t give that to him. I don’t _want_ to give that to him even if he hasn’t been lying about everything,” she whimpers. But she knows Carly is right. She and her kids aren't technically in any immediate danger, but they could be if they disturb the spider’s web with one ill placed move. 

Carly’s eyes harden. “Look, what you said about Sam... I’m going to do a little snooping. The quickest way to confirm whether or not Franco lied about it is to prove Danny’s paternity which will take about a week.” Elizabeth feels the hands on her shoulders squeeze. _“You can do this for your kids.”_

Elizabeth nods in a blink, using her sleeves to wipe away her tears. She takes all her crumbling and volatile emotions and locks them in a box for later. She nods again. “Right. I’ll be fine.” 

Carly steps back. “Don’t tell anyone about this - not even Jason. This war is at the point of no return right now, so if he knew—” 

“He might wind up dead trying to protect me, I know,” she assures Carly with iron clad resolve. 

Carly lets out a breath. “Okay. I’m gonna go. I'll let you know how the test results turn out and if Franco lied... I’m going to pack you up myself and get you out of this place,“ she promises, voice laced with seriousness. “God, I hope they finish off Renault soon. Jason really needs to be a part of this,” she groans in her next breath, then makes a determined beeline towards Elizabeth’s front door. Elizabeth follows after her. 

“If anyone was listening to me before I came here, I made sure my whole excuse for coming by today was to return Cameron’s chemistry book which I left on the coffee table.” Carly opens the door, taking all the warmth with her so that the supportive smile she offers does nothing to reassure. “You’re strong and this is going to be over soon. You’re safer here right now than you think. Remember that.” 

Elizabeth closes the door quietly after she walks away and leans against it. _Safe_ with a potential monster. Her fingers curl into tight fists against the polished wood and she slams her fists against the door with a scream. 

God, she _hates_ that word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IRL Hurricane Laura is supposed to just miss my area, but you never know what could happen. If all goes well, I'll be back with my usual Friday update. Stay safe!


	10. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! It had nothing to do with Hurricane Laura (which thankfully passed right by). I actually had a bad migraine and couldn't bare to look at my computer screen.  
> Thank you all for the well wishes! We're getting close to the end. Here's the next update.

**_Thursday, October 22, 2020_**  
 ** _General Hospital 10th Floor_**

Elizabeth shuts the patient’s door behind her gently, then glances at her silver wristwatch. Seeing that it’s just after noon puts a smile on her face. Pride puts a bounce in her step as she realizes she’s made it four hours into her shift on her first day back without any incidents. Her worry that she’d be slogging through the day by now was unfounded. Being around the patients and getting to help them, while not her passion, is still invigorating. 

That and it keeps her mind off of the test results Carly should be getting the following day. 

Before she allows any tendrils of fright over this to fester, an idea comes to mind. Peering down the hallway, she only spies white linoleum flooring, sun warmed windows on one side and shut doors on the other - a temporary sight as she knows doctors and nurses could hustle through at any time. Fishing out her phone, she takes advantage, angling her camera and snapping a picture of herself with a giddy smile. She tries not to think of it too much as she types a caption. 

_First day back! I was a little worried I wasn't ready to come back just yet, but working really centers me._

She’s sent plenty of pictures of her kids, but this is the first one she’s sent Jason of herself. A burning nervousness clenches her stomach as she puts her phone away and heads to the nurses’ station. It’s an irrational reaction, she knows. Besides, he hasn’t replied to her messages in a few days anyway, so it’ll probably be a while before he sees it. Setting her chart down on top of the appropriate stack meant for Dr. Clark, the increased number of shootouts happening in the warehouse district unwillingly comes to mind as the cause for his delayed responses. The series of vibrations against her hip drags her from the edge before she can fall down that particular rabbit hole of thought. 

Sidestepping a nurse, she heads towards a window seat framed by fake plants, officially entering her break period. Anticipation livening her blood, she pulls up the new message. 

_You’re beautiful._

Wings beat furiously in her belly, the heat rising to her cheeks almost dizzying. She swears Jason’s ability to make her blush is unparalleled. Heart basking in relief, she decides to share a mere fraction of the emotion rooted inside her. 

_I miss you so much._

She gets two successive replies. 

_I miss you too._   
_This is going to end soon. Don’t worry._

She takes in a steadying breath. 

_Okay. I believe you._

Her fingers hesitate over the keys as she debates whether she wants her next words to be given as a text message. 

She’s interrupted by a familiar, youthful voice calling for her. 

“Mom.” 

Lifting her head sharply, she stares wide eyed as Cameron marches her way. Off balanced, she looks back at her phone knowing her opportunity has been missed. She sends a different set of three words - _Please be safe_. - before pocketing her phone in her scrubs and rising. Curling a lock of hair behind her ear, she notices the agitation in her son in his brooding gaze and his inability to remain still. There’s an uptick in her pulse. 

Bringing her hands to his cheeks, she studies the eyes matching her own. “Cameron, baby, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you in school?” 

He steps out of her reach, hand grabbing the strap of his backpack. “It’s a half day, remember?” 

Slowly bringing her hands down to fold in front of her stomach, she arches a brow at his attitude. Obviously, there isn’t any danger bringing him there, but she can tell something else lurks beneath the surface. “Yeah, for a junior field trip you and Josslyn and Trina all seemed really excited about. So what happened?” 

He looks at her shoulder, lips pinching and fists tightening as she waits patiently. When his eyes finally meet hers, there’s sadness and hurt brimming there. “I saw you. With Jason. _I saw you.”_

Her breath catches and ice encases her heart. Furtively looking around, she assures herself that no one is near enough to hear, then grabs her son’s wrist. “Come on, we’re going to talk about this,” she tells him in a wobbly tone. She’s grateful when he doesn’t resist and follows her to an empty office - the one that used to belong to her friend, Patrick Drake. She releases him and braces herself before facing him. Hiding her trembling hands under her armpits, she asks, “What did-what did you see?” 

The strap of his backpack is strangled in Cameron’s grip as his brows pinch together. “I went down to get a drink of water - that’s why I was up. But when I got back to my room, I dunno, I decided to look out the window. We’re learning astronomy and I just looked, but I-I saw you. And Jason. And you guys were all over each other,” his voice overflows with confusion and upset as he starts to pace in a flustered display from what she knows has been eating at him for weeks. “You weren’t kissing exactly, but you looked like you wanted to. And I just- I just don’t get it,” he whirls to face her and she realizes she’s been biting her lip to prevent her tears from falling. They rush down at his desperate plea. 

“Mom, you were so heartbroken when Shiloh and that doctor replaced Franco’s memories with Drew’s. You wanted Franco back, you never stopped believing he would return. You said he loved you and would come back no matter what. You loved him that much,” he sniffs and wipes at his eyes angrily, his face scrunching up as he struggles not to let the dam break, and it really hits home how deep she allowed Franco to worm into her kids’ hearts. And he could be the monster she promised Cameron he wasn't. 

Her knees become weak. 

“So why would you do this? Why would you cheat on him? Jake and Aiden don’t notice it, but you’ve been pretending around Franco since,” he casts his gaze to the side, his frown deep-set. 

A trickle of fear winds down her spine. _If my sixteen year old boy noticed, what has been going through Franco’s mind?_

“Joss and Trina try to understand, but I’m sure they think I’m—” 

Her wet tremulous gasp cuts him off. “Wait, you talked to them about this? _Where?”_

He shifts on his feet. “Mr. Corinthos’,” he grumbles. 

She closes her eyes and inhales. “Okay. Okay, come sit with me and I’ll explain everything.” She takes a seat on the white leather couch and uses her sleeves to dry her cheeks. 

Cameron dumps his backpack on the ground and hunches on the other end of the couch watching her with narrowed eyes. 

She twists her hands together for a moment before deciding on being as honest with him as possible. “I do love Franco,” she _had_ anyway, “He was a really great friend when I needed one the most, and I think I just grew used to that closeness and support.” She props her elbow on the back of the couch and hides her face in her hand. “It turned more into a dependence upon one another though. Who could love the town pariah - the person who was so desperate to be with Jason she jumped on the chance to lie about his identity?” she croaks out, feeling the awful sludge of shame form nauseating clumps in her stomach. “And who would love a reformed serial killer who only did bad things because he had a tumor?” 

She feels a warm hand gently squeeze her shoulder and she looks at Cameron through bleary eyes. “Mom, you and Franco made mistakes. You’re-you’re an _amazing_ person.” 

She soaks up the sincerity in his heartfelt gaze, lets it ease her nausea into a mild queasiness, and curves her hand over his. “Thank you, Cam.” She holds his hand tighter for a moment before letting him pull back as she collects herself and her thoughts. “I didn’t want to give up that security with Franco. I just wanted to be loved and to love so badly. So I fought for that with Franco. But I was never actually _in love_ with him.” 

She looks down, fidgeting with her fingers, trying to figure out exactly how to explain the depth of her feelings for Jason. “I... like to believe that there is someone out there meant for everyone. And for me, that someone has always been Jason,” she pauses and meets Cameron’s unreadable look. 

“We came into each other’s lives when I was seventeen and I had only known him as Emily’s older brother, and, before that when I was really little and my brother Steven and my sister Sarah and I would visit Grams, he was AJ’s cute, younger brother.” She smiles momentarily in remembrance, having not thought of that in such a long time because she thinks of Jason Morgan and Jason Quartermaine as separate people now. 

“We were in really dark places at the time. I had thought I lost whom I thought was my forever, Lucky, and Jason had just lost the little boy he loved so dearly as a son, Michael. We went on motorcycle rides together and we talked all the time. Two people you would never expect to ever cross paths grew close, and we-we fell in love,” she admits with a soft, blissful smile. 

“It can’t be explained, our love for each other. It doesn’t make sense. It just _is,”_ she says with a fierce certainty that stems from her soul. “And it persists no matter how far apart we are or who we have in our lives at the time. Whenever we enter each other’s lives again, it’s like we drift towards one another, like two halves seeking completion. _Every time.”_

She sees Cameron swallow and look down, his knee bouncing as he ingests her words. 

Elizabeth glances down at her wedding band with a regretful smile. “The reason we’re not already married with a half a dozen kids is because our lives are so different.” A sigh slides from her as she tries not to let anger well up at how much time they’ve wasted apart. “It was me at first - I was afraid to take the risk of being with him, because I knew what it felt like when I thought I lost Lucky. If I lost Jason that way, I knew it would end me,” she blinks back tears and forces herself to admit to him quietly, “I’ve lived a life where my only reason for getting up each morning was you boys.” 

Cameron’s eyes flash up to hers, seeming to understand as he says just as soft, “When everyone thought Jason was dead, right?” 

She nods, pulling her lips into her mouth and licking away salty moisture. “Yeah, living through not only Jake's 'death' and then his too?” Tilting her head skyward for a moment, she forces back the choking dam of her emotions before continuing. “So I can’t feel resentful about his fears of the same thing happening to me or you guys. That’s what kept us apart for this long. But I’ve-maybe we _both_ have come to really learn that love isn’t supposed to be _safe,”_ she spits the word like a curse. 

“It’s not supposed to be settling. It shouldn’t be the practical option. It’s supposed to be risky, and passionate, and worthwhile. It’s supposed to fill you up until you can’t breathe past how much you just love this person and want to be with them and want to spend the rest of your life with them no matter what,” her fiery speech ends when her breath catches as Cameron regards her with such care and understanding and _forgiveness._ Her strength tumbles right out of her, leaving her raw and exposed. “It’s supposed to be with _Jason.”_

She crumbles, and Cameron is there pulling her into his arms as she weeps. “It’s ok-it’s okay mom. I think I understand,” he soothes, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “I mean, I _think_ I’m too young to have met that someone, but I get it,” she feels him shrug and laughs with him, slowly being able to put herself together with his unwavering support. “Either way, you deserve to be happy, mom. I _want_ you to be happy,” he tells her in a soggy voice and her motherly instincts kick in. 

Pulling from his arms, she cups her baby’s cheeks gives him a loving smile. “Cameron Steven Webber, you have become such a wonderful young man, and I am _so_ proud of you.” 

His cheeks warm under her hands and he ducks his wet gaze downward briefly. “Thank you, mom.” 

She combs her fingers through his hair. “Thank _you_ for listening and being there for me. I have such an amazing son I wouldn’t give up for the world,” she gushes with a tender smile. 

When he goes for a hug, she eagerly pulls him into her chest, absorbing his scent, and for a second remembers when the doctors put his tiny squalling form in her arms. The love she felt for him then has only grown. 

“What’re you going to do about Franco?” he asks after a time as she fingers his soft hair. 

“I was actually going to talk to him about separating tomorrow.” _Well, that’s if the results Carly gets proves he hasn’t been lying; if so, I’m packing up you boys and leaving without a word to him._

“Okay. And... Jason?” he tentatively asks. 

She opens her mouth, then shuts it with a sigh. “Things are still dangerous right now, so we agreed to wait. But after, I’m hoping me, you, and your brothers can get a new house, and I’ll slowly start bringing him around...” she carefully unravels her thoughts while nervously tracing the design on the hem of Cameron’s coat. “Ultimately, I’m hoping he can move in with us, and we’ll be a family, and one day... we’ll get married.” 

She feels anxiety and embarrassment prickling across her skin like she’s a schoolgirl revealing the most important portion of her diary. But when Cameron pulls back and looks at her with bright eyes, her worries ease. “I hope so too. I’d like to get to know the guy who means the world to you.” 

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. “Thank you, Cam.” 

“No problem, mom. Hey?” he jumps up from his seat, “Can we get something to eat? I’m starving.” 

She laughs and stands, accepting that their heart to heart is done. She looks down at her watch. “I’ve got about fifteen minutes left in my lunch hour, so we better book it.” 

He snags his backpack up and heads for the door which she squints at upon noticing that it’s cracked open. 

Cameron pauses in the doorway to look at her with urgency, clearly dissatisfied with her pace. “Come _on.”_

She giggles and shakes her head, speeding up as they head for the cafeteria. She’s not really hungry, but more time with her son is never a bad thing. 

— 

Elizabeth scrubs the last of the pasta from the plate into the sink before passing it to Cameron to rinse. She takes a moment to stretch her back annoyed at just how strained it feels. She only worked six hours to ease herself back into the routine, but her body seems hell-bent on voicing it’s displeasure. 

“You didn’t really eat much tonight or at lunch. You feeling okay?” Cameron murmurs her way. 

She reaches for another plate to clean, thinking about it. “Yeah, I’ve just been feeling a little queasy today, is all. It was my first day back. My body’s not used to it yet,” she explains easily. 

“Hey, mom? There’s this recital on the 30th for Halloween my friend Alex is going to be a part of. Can I go?” Jake asks down the line, the designated stacker for the night. 

There’s always four people - washer, rinser, dryer, and stacker - with one person who has the night off. She’s grateful Franco is in the living room tonight working on a commission sketch he promises will be worth enough to stop the threats of foreclosure - not that it will matter after tomorrow. If she has to pretend to enjoy kissing him again, she feels like she’s going to crawl out of her skin. 

Off the top of her head, she can’t think of what day the 30th falls on. She quickly peels off her gloves and moves to the island where her phone sits. “Hold on, let me check.” Navigating to her calendar, she sees it lands on the following Friday, but a niggling in the back of her mind makes her study her phone longer. Something looks _off._ She stares blankly, not pinpointing it until she realizes it’s not that something’s off, it’s that something’s missing. Shifting so her weight rests on one hip, she decides to scroll back through her calendar, hoping to get a clue. 

She stops dead, her heart squeezing until she can’t breathe. 

September 1st marks her last period. 

_No. I can’t be… We’ve always used condoms._ _But I've been through this enough times to know that the signs are all there._ Her hands begin to shake as realizations set it. _Franco. I could be having a child with a rapist._

She slaps a hand over her mouth as her phone cracks against the floor. She bolts for the bathroom, ignoring everyone’s concerned shouts as her queasiness evolves into full on nausea, then vomiting when she retches into the toilet. 

She chokes, gasping for breath as tears drip down her cheeks. She knows in her gut that their suspicions are probably right about Franco. She’s seen flashes of something dark and unsettling beneath the surface in response to her pulling away. If he knew she was pregnant... 

Another wave of retching ensues as she clings to the cold porcelain. _I need to get my kids out of here now—_

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His hands grip her shoulders, then pull her hair back from her face. “You’re crying. Does anything hurt?” His voice is saturated with concern. 

She flinches, but doesn’t pull away, as it dawns on her how vulnerable she is now. _If I try to leave now he could very easily hurt any one of my kids or make me miscarry. No, I have to wait until he’s out of the house._

She gives him a sidelong look while trying to catch her breath. “I’m... I’m fine. I just haven’t been feeling well all day.” 

She feels him gently tug on her arms and she stands with his help, letting him guide her towards the sink. He wets a face towel and she stands still as she cleans her mouth, then after, she takes the toothbrush and toothpaste he hands her with a stiff thanks. 

He plays the attentive husband, stroking between her shoulder blades while she cleans the awful taste from her mouth. She hears his shoes faintly squelch as he shifts. “You know, maybe this is a sign that you should take off for tomorrow, if you’re feeling so bad.” 

Her hand with the toothbrush freezes before she slowly retracts it from her mouth. She meets his eyes in the mirror, sees nothing but genuine worry in his eyes, but can’t fight the hairs that rise on the back of her neck. She spits the toothpaste out and rinses her mouth before shaking her head. ”No, I’m really feeling better—” 

“Come on, I can take off too and take care of you,” he urges with furrowed brows and a pleading voice as his hand falls to the small of her back. 

She shakes her head again. “No, you have that commission you’re working on. You can’t blow it off again,” she argues, feeling panic beginning to cut off her airways. 

He turns her to face him and the reassuring smile he now wears. “I can work on it when you’re sleeping. Come on, let me take care of you.” 

Her mouth opens and shuts like a fish a few times, but she realizes denying him one more time would be suspicious. So she presses her lips together, resisting the churning of her stomach, and pastes on a grateful smile. “Okay.” 

He grins, then leans down, and she closes her eyes and does her best to pretend he’s anyone else to keep her stomach at bay when he kisses her mouth. “Mmm, minty,” he chuckles and pecks her again. “Let’s get you to bed. I asked the boys to finish up the dishes while I took care of you.” 

She doesn’t object even as her insides scream at her to do the opposite. As soon as the living room is visible, two brunettes and one blond rush towards her and begin spouting questions about her health. She sees Franco about to interject, but steps forward and pulls Aiden into a hug. They all fall silent as she does this to each one, pulling them in, stroking their hair, and kissing their cheeks before she reluctantly returns to Franco’s side. 

“I’m fine guys. I just need to get some rest, okay?” 

Jake and Aiden accept this with well wishes and smiles, but Cameron eyes her a little longer, hesitating. “Okay, mom... if you’re sure?” 

Her smile becomes tender as love brims in her eyes. Her little man wanting to protect her solidifies her resolve to do anything it takes to make sure her kids come through this unscathed. “Yeah, I’m sure. Goodnight boys.” 

“Goodnight!” 

Franco’s hand on her back follows her all the way up to their room where the idea of changing in front of him has her looking for an exit and finding one in the form of her missing phone. She steps away from him, turning on the balls of her feet. “Uh, you know, I forgot my phone and I need to turn off my alarm for tomorrow, so...” 

He holds his hands up, halting her. “I’ll go get it. You just get into bed.” 

She nods and waits until he’s clear of the door before rushing to exchange clothes. She’s under the covers when he returns. 

He hands it over before pointing his thumb at the door behind him. “I’m gonna see the boys off to bed, then work a little more on my art before coming up, okay?” He places a kiss to her forehead and runs his fingers through her hair. “Get some rest.” 

She keeps the smile on her face until he shuts the door to a crack behind him. Holding her breath, she listens for his fading footsteps before pulling up her contact list with shaking hands. It rings twice before a voice sounds on the other end. 

_“Elizabeth? What’s—”_

“My kids and I need to get out of this house as soon as possible,” she cuts in, her fingers curling into her blanket as she stares her bedroom door down. 

_“Has he done something? The results won’t be ready until tomorrow—”_

“I don’t need the results to know that something’s not right with him Carly!” she stresses as quietly as she can while trying to get her trembling under control. “Cameron confronted me at work about having seen me with Jason, and he says he noticed that I’ve been pretending with Franco ever since. He’s sixteen. Franco has to know I don’t want to be with him anymore. And now he wants me to stay home tomorrow so he can take care of me—” 

_“What happened? Is there some kind of infection from the surgery?”_ Carly demands, and her brand of concern actually feels real. 

Elizabeth wets her lips, not daring to voice her condition aloud no matter how certain she feels she’s alone. “I was just sick like last week when you were here. It was my first day back at the hospital and I pushed myself too hard. I’m okay.” 

“Okay, that’s a relief.” Elizabeth hears her sigh through the phone. _“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to throw some money at the hospital and see if they can get me the results first thing.”_

Elizabeth hardly has a breath in to protest when Carly rushes on. 

_“We’re gonna need them because I’m also going to call your guards and tell them to stop by your place tomorrow for a surprise visit. And if they happen to need to restrain your husband...”_

“It’ll be because we have evidence that I had reason to fear for my safety,” Elizabeth exhales sagging into the bed in relief. “Thank you, Carly. I’m glad to have you on my side.” 

When she hears Carly laughing over the line, her brows scrunch up with confusion. 

Carly answers her unvoiced question. _“I’m sorry, I’m just wishing I had this on record, because I know Jason would never believe you just said that to me. And thanking me on top of it too?”_

Elizabeth grins wide, understanding now. “Yeah, you’re right. I never thought I’d see the day when you didn’t outright despise me.” 

Carly sobers up, her voice sounding a degree softer. _“Yeah, well, Jason pointed out how you wouldn’t have a reason to want me out of his life if I didn’t give you one. And since you’re going to be priority number one once this stuff is over, I figured I needed to buck up and be the friend he deserved so I didn’t lose him.”_

Elizabeth can’t find any words for a moment, stunned at the strength it took for Carly to expose one of her greatest fears to her. Carly has come a long way from the hissing hellcat she was years prior, but her reflex to run Jason’s life how she sees fit has been something she’s never grown out of. Until apparently now, that is. 

Elizabeth finally lets go of any reservations she had towards Carly and finds her response. “I agree, the boys and I, _his family,_ should definitely be top priority... But you’re a part of that too Carly.” 

There’s a shaky breath. _“Thank you, Elizabeth. I’ll make sure you don’t regret it. And on that note, I have to call Ben and Joseph about being there tomorrow morning. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe by the end of the day.”_

Keeping her eyes on the door, Elizabeth draws courage from those words. “Okay. I’ll let you go then.” 

She hangs up after Carly’s goodbyes and finally feels the tension knotting her body begin to ease up as she sinks into the cushion of her bed. Rubbing her hand over her flat belly where her baby grows, she tries not to let her heart sink, because she loves it so much already - regardless of its father. But a large part of her, especially now with how close she is to having her dream finally realized, wishes it had been Jason’s. 

_It doesn’t really matter, I guess. We’re going to love you as our own, the same as Cameron, Jake, and Aiden. That’s what you’re going to remember the most when growing up,_ she internally reassures the little life with a final, gentle pat to her belly. Fatigue starts to weigh her down, but she decides to stay up a little longer, wanting to hear the sounds of her boys turning in to be sure they’re okay. 

Doors shut, the house quiets, footsteps descend the stairs all seeming distant and muffled as she drifts. She snaps back to awareness as the bed is jostled and the rumbling of thunder sounds not far off. From how sluggish and tired she still feels, only a few hours must have passed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Franco whispers, sliding closer. 

She jolts at his cold touch, but settles moments later, fighting a losing battle to sleep. “...took you so long?” she vaguely wonders, already slipping back under. 

“I had a burst of inspiration and decided to strike while the iron was hot.” 

If he says anything more, it’s lost on her as she falls into a deep sleep.


	11. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kindness and continuing to stick with this story!
> 
> This chapter contains potentially triggering stuff, so read with caution.

**_Friday, October 23, 2020_**  
 ** _Webber-Baldwin Living Room_**

Elizabeth drums her nails gently along the side of a mug of ginger ale. 

She had done her best to pretend like her queasiness had abated, but Franco noticed her pushing her breakfast around and reaffirmed his decision to have her stay home. So she was forced to sit on her couch with a blue afghan over her lap and watch as Franco made sure each boy made it safely to their buses in the rainstorm. 

Now her nerves steadily build as the clock goes from seven to ten a.m. with no signs of her guards. 

She takes another sip of her drink with the bubbles long since having gone flat. A rumble of thunder goes through as Franco leans around his canvas to look at her. He had pushed the coffee table over nearer to the TV and laid out a white tarp to catch any drops of paint. 

“You haven’t drank much. Is that not helping?” 

She takes another drink, bringing her mug to half full to assuage his supposed concerns. “No, it’s not that. It's just...” She debates what to say only to pause and bring her hand to her head, needing a moment. Exhaustion clings to her bones like tar, frustrating her because she felt like she slept well the night before. She knows logically it’s because of the baby, but she needs her wits about her if things are to go smoothly today. 

She meets his gaze again once she’s cleared the cobwebs in her mind. “It’s just our new neighbors across the street, Ben and Joseph, said they were going to stop by today to get to know us better. And I thought that was a great idea.” 

His brows furrow. “When did they ask? We hadn’t planned to be home today until last night.” 

“I noticed the missed call when you gave me my phone last night and returned the call,” she lies easily. “It’s not like I have the flu. I could handle the visit. It’s just they said they would stop by this morning and it's getting... kind of late,” she has to pause to cover a yawn. 

A crack of thunder fills the air and Franco raises his eyebrows. “I mean, it is kind of stormy. They could’ve changed their mind.” 

She takes another sip of her flat drink, then shakes her head. Her guards would never bail because of a little rain. “It’s right across the street and... they would’ve called to cancel I’m sure.” She fights to keep her eyes open while lifting up her phone to check for any missed notifications. Her lock screen remains blank of anything but the time, date, and picture of her three kids. 

“Hey...” Franco swoops to her side and takes her drink, setting it on the end table behind her. “You seem pretty tired. Why don’t you take a nap?” 

Her body sinks down into the couch as if those are the magic words, but she fights to resist. _There’s something... Something I need to do..._ “No, I don’t wanna miss them,” she mumbles, watching through heavy eyes as he raises the afghan up to her chin. 

“I’ll wake you if they call or show up. Promise,” he soothes before placing a kiss to her forehead. 

Elizabeth tries to say more, feeling a sense of déjà vu tickling the back of her mind, but sleep wins out. 

— 

The scene she takes part in is blurry at first, filled with darkened browns and smeared amber. Gradually, a veil lifts and she can make out a wooden headboard, dusty log walls, and a lantern off to the side. She feels an insatiable need thrumming within, and hot, rough hands sliding up and down her skin, languid and hungry like they need to feel more and more of her or they’ll go absolutely insane. There’s a delicious coil of pleasure in her core, tightening faster each time she descends on his cock. And Jason Morgan lies beneath her, looking as ravished as she feels. 

Elizabeth gyrates her hips and bites her lip around a breathy moan when the tendons in Jason’s neck strains as he lets out a ragged curse. Above him or under him she feels utterly intoxicated with him. 

And it shows when she asks in a silken tone, “Guess what?” 

He grunts, seemingly tongue tied as his fingers flex around her waist. She can feel him tensing under her. He’s close. She licks her lips in delight feeling right there with him. 

She bends over him, sucking kisses along the way until she reaches his ear. “I’m gonna make you my husband one day, and, if I have it my way... you’re going to wake up like this every single morning.” 

_“Fuck.”_ His arms encircle her, squeezing her close as he drives his hips up into her in his release. 

Her triumphant giggles morph into honeyed moans as the power behind his deep strokes sends her over the edge along with him.—

—The scene shifts. The room is the same, only aglow in early morning light. Jason is above her, his baby blue eyes being all she can see. The morning is still. Peaceful. They connect in lazy motions, their lips brushing in chaste kisses, never breaking eye contact. Their lovemaking is sweet, earnest. 

_Perfection.—_

—Another scene unfolds and she sees sky reaching pine trees in afternoon light, feels a chill nipping at her through her clothes, smells leather and a tinge of sweet from the woods, and hears the tail end of their conversation. 

“...you can’t back out. I mean it. I want a life with you.” 

He nods slowly, sincerity twinkling in his eyes. “I want a life with you too. That’s-that’s all I’ve ever wanted with you,” he murmurs before leaning down and sealing his mouth to hers.— 

—Another scene flashes into existence of a well lived in home filled with knickknacks and warmth. She knows Jason is vulnerable behind her and a plain woman stands rooted ahead of her, pointing a gun. Elizabeth is overcome with the intense need to act, to protect him. 

And she _moves.—_

—The world seems unrecognizable, except Jason. He’s there, looking pleased to see her, well, _more than pleased,_ which stuns her more than her unfamiliar surroundings. 

Then his lips are on hers gentle, loving, and leaving faster than she’d like to peck her nose, and lastly settle on her forehead with a happy little moan. 

His hand is on her cheek and his face inches from hers as he voices in a blissful sigh, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed your beautiful eyes and the sound of your voice.” 

And Elizabeth is absolutely _certain_ she has died and been accepted into heaven, because nothing makes sense and she can’t _breathe.—_

She jolts awake, her hands flying to her pounding head as fragmented memories mend into a full portrait. And everything finally makes sense. What she once assumed were vivid dreams, she now knows to have happened. She and Jason had been together, and they both knew what could happen as result. Her tension bleeds from her as her breath catches. _We made this baby._ Twin tears trace the curve of her cheeks as overwhelming relief fills her up. _This baby has to be ours._

“Whoa, hey are you alright?” 

Even the sight of Franco hovering before her can’t put a dent in the euphoria overflowing inside her. She cries tears of joy, her hands folding over her heart. “Better than ever. I just had this really amazing dream.” 

He smiles with her and thumbs away some of her tears. “What was it about?” 

Her lips part, her words stuck somewhere between her heart and her throat when the previously unnoticed drone of the news cuts into her focus. 

_“—breaking news. We have an eyewitness account on the shooting that took place on Pier 52 an hour earlier. The man stated he was taking a shortcut home due to the storm, when a shot rang out. He saw a man matching the description of alleged mob enforcer Jason Morgan fall into the water. He fled the scene and moments later an explosion devastated the pier. Police have been canvassing the area with no signs of a body yet to report. We’ll keep you updated on this story. In other news, two unidentified bodies—”_

Franco turns the TV off, but she can still hear the words, can feel them burn through her chest like a bullet allowing every sensation to bleed out of her until she’s numb. Hollow. And the world around her looks bleak. 

“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. I know he was a-a friend of yours..." he pauses then huffs, "but you have to admit he brought danger to you and your children's lives before. He's brought nothing but danger to the people of Port Charles. So maybe... maybe this is a good thing.” 

Rage explodes within her, filling her from end to end, giving her the strength to move, to breathe, to scream. _“How could you say that?! That is Jake’s father! He’s my,”_ angry tears scrape her throat as she chokes back _'_ _everything'._

Franco’s eyes widen as he tries to backpedal. “I’m sorry! I-I didn't mean to—” 

She leaps off the couch when he tries to reach for her, repulsed as she hisses, _“Don’t touch me!”_

He stands and comes closer anyway. “Elizabeth—” 

_“Stay away from me! Don’t come near me!_ The sight of you makes me _sick,”_ she spits out before bounding to the bathroom and locking the door behind her. 

The rage drains too soon, burning hot and fast like a fuse. She’s left with scorched pieces and only one hope of being whole again. Taking the phone out from her pajama bottoms, she nearly drops it several times, shaking as if she’s in a blizzard. She hits number two on her speed dial and presses her phone to her ear like a lifeline. 

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up. _Please._ I need you,” she pleads in a tight rasp, dropping her hand to her belly. 

The ringing cuts. “Elizabeth?” 

She bends forward under the weight of her relief the sound of his breathtaking voice brings her. She brings her hand to her forehead, holding back her curtain of hair as she cries her gratitude to whatever entity that listened and kept Jason alive. 

“Elizabeth, what’s wrong? Where are you?” he asks with panic edging into his words.

She forces herself to inhale deeply as she reaches into the tub to turn on the water in hopes it’ll make it difficult to listen in on her. Only then does she answer. “I was so worried. The n-news said you were shot and went into the w-water. And that happened before when you disappeared, so I…” A fresh wave of tears wets her cheeks, soaking up her words. 

“God, I’m so sorry you had to worry for even a second,” he apologizes fiercely. 

She sniffles, wiping her eyes. “I’m always going to worry, no matter what. I don’t want to lose you,” she tells him in a soft voice. 

He inhales quickly, and her heart beats faster, sensing his emotions as if he’s right beside her with only a thin barrier keeping them apart. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen. I was-I was just grazed on the shoulder. It took me by surprise and I went in the water. I think they meant to immobilize me and the explosion would've done the rest... Instead, I was able to pull up out of the water from further down the pier and take Renault’s enforcer by surprise.” 

She takes another calming breath, soothed by his voice, even while he's implying he eliminated someone. “What does that mean?” Mob business is always kept under wraps unless absolutely necessary. The fact that he’s willingly telling her this much means it’s significant. 

“It means… things are going to happen really fast. Once Renault learns about the loss, he’s going to try and go underground and regroup. We need to get to him before he does,” he pauses. “That’s where we’re headed now,” he finishes in a cool, emotionless tone. 

“Okay.” She takes a breath and tries again, firmer this time. _“Okay._ Then what happens afterwards?” 

“I’m coming for you.” 

Her breath sticks in her throat at the husky, decisiveness to his words. 

“I just… I meant—” 

“No, no,” she shakes her head, trembling now for a far more pleasant reason. “I like that. I want that,” she breathes in a throaty resonance before adding, “But you have to come back safe first.” 

“That’s the plan… Elizabeth? I’m gonna have to go,” he tells her, voice weighed down with reluctance. 

Her belly lurches and words spring free before she can think. “I love you, Jason,” She’s in her bathroom in her pajamas, staring down at her ruby red toe nails as her heart knocks around in her ribs, but who cares? Ideal moments are few and far between. She wants him to know what he’s fighting for, so she says it again in breathless passion, “I love you. Always.” 

His exhale is shaky. “I love you. I’m so in love with you, Elizabeth.” 

She laughs, airy and free with happy tears clinging to her lashes. “Then come back to me already.” 

“I will. I’ll see you later?” 

With a light heart she agrees, “I’ll see you later.” 

The call ends and slowly the outside world begins to seep in. Franco’s out there, no doubt waiting, and— 

She stares blankly at the time. It’s half past noon with no missed calls. Fear works its way under her skin. _What happened to my guards? And why hasn’t Carly called?_ She navigates to her contacts when thunder claps overhead, rumbling through the house. The lights flick off. 

Heart pumping faster in response, she turns on her flashlight instead, and quickly shuts off the water. Carefully making her way to the door, she eases out of the room and turns to the left towards the living room. The darkness is thick enough to try and swallow the beam of light from her flashlight. But she can see enough to know no one’s there. Only the sound of the rain disrupts the eerie silence. Her hair stands on end. 

Meekly, she calls out, “Franco?” 

She hears something rushing behind her before splitting pain to the back of her head sends her plummeting into the darkness. 

— 

Elizabeth abruptly wakes, coughing at the tinge of ammonia scratching at her lungs and feels a pounding headache she knows won’t fade simply because her memories have settled. The first thing she notices is she’s now in her bed with her hands restrained to the headboard behind her head. Heart jump starting, she yanks her hands, hearing metallic clanks as the unyielding rim of the handcuffs dig into her delicate wrists. 

“Good. You’re awake.” 

The smooth comment brings her wide gaze to Franco sitting further down on the edge of the bed with his back to her. Several candles have been lit casting a dull glow to the room. A quick flash of lightning tells her the storm is still plowing through. 

Her chest heaves with waves of fear. “What are you-why are you doing this?” she stammers more feebly than she would like. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your revived infatuation with Jason?” he questions, again with an almost silky charm to his tone. His back remains to her, but she can tell he’s doing something with his hands that sets her on edge. 

She wets her lips and swallows, doing her best to keep her panic out of her voice. “What do you mean? I haven’t seen him since we got back. I only heard about him on the news today-I’m sorry for snapping. He’s Jake’s father, so he-he matters.” 

Franco remains silent long enough for her to realize her rapid breathing is more than audible. She restlessly pulls her hands, gritting her teeth as she fights back tears. _Where are my guards? Does Carly know something’s wrong by now?_

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be here right now, Elizabeth.” 

_“Then what is true?!”_ she barks. The room is icy without central heating, but she feels a cold sweat bead across her flesh anyway. 

“You’ve given me the most wonderful form of inspiration,” he praises, seemingly ignoring her question. “I told you-I took care of it last night.” 

He slowly turns towards her and the first thing she notices is his smile. It’s wide with perverse delight squinting his eyes, his dark eyes empty of anything recognizable. The love, kindness, and understanding of her friend and husband that used to be housed there is long gone. All that remains is the cruelty of a monster disguised in human skin - a monster who wields a wicked knife that glints in the candlelight. 

She jerks back as far as her restrained arms will allow, unable to keep her tears from falling. _Oh god, what is he going to do to me and my baby?_

“I did most of the work last night, but I had to drug you earlier to finish up the final touches. I think the news reporters took notice,” he laughs in an easy and pleased manner. 

Her stomach drops through her toes. The sense of déjà vu from before was because she recognized she was being drugged again, but by a different husband this time. What did he mean by the news? He couldn’t mean Jason, so... 

_“In other news, two unidentified bodies—”_

_Ben and Joseph. Oh god. Carly called them last night so she probably doesn’t know they’re-they’re dead. Oh god._

His teeth flash in the smile he fails to contain, resembling a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar - only he’s proud of it. “I can see it in your eyes that you figured it out. You were always so smart and so beautiful... too bad you could never be loyal. Scratch that. Too bad you could never be loyal to anyone but _Jason.”_ A chink reveals itself in his charismatic demeanor as a black hatred overshadows his delight and his hand strangles the hilt of his knife. 

However, It fades in a blink as he leans towards her slightly. “Well, that’s not _entirely_ true either. You betrayed him once by siding with Ric Lansing to get back at him for hurting you, right?” 

Elizabeth sniffles, her body strained as she resolutely holds herself at the other side of the bed even knowing her attempt at distancing herself from him is futile. Jason had been right about Ric then and Zander too. He’d been right about Ewen, just as he’s been right about Franco. But she never listens, wanting so desperately to be right about her choices, even though she knows she’ll never be right unless her choice is Jason. 

"I made you something," his voice boarders on excitement as he lifts a laptop from the ground and opens it up. There's a still image of herself sitting on the living room couch illuminated on the screen. "I knew you would have a hard time admitting to what you've done without it."

Even though she can feel the sear of his stare, her eyes are locked on the screen as nausea makes her head spin. _He installed cameras in our home like Ric._

He clicks play and she hears the end of the voicemail she'd left Jason. _“What I’m trying to say is maybe if you’re sure it’s safe enough, you can come over… and be as discreet as they are. Day or night, I don’t care, I just... need to see you. And please be safe.”_ She can see the blush in her cheeks and the adoration softening her smile. Even at the camera's angle, she'd have to be blind not to see the sheer amount of love in her expression.

The video changes to a shaky one obviously taken by hand. It's dark, but she easily makes out the way she and Jason are intertwined outside her house, swaying gently to the steady pulse of the emotions flowing between them. Tears track her cheeks as hatred courses through her blood so violently she practically vibrates from it. Franco twisted something beautiful between her and Jason into his sick act of vengeance.

And the video keeps going. Clips of her calling out for Jason in the middle of the night, clips of Carly's visit, hand shot footage through the crack of a door of her talk with Cameron, her phone call with Carly. Evidence of his stalking and spying on her for weeks all contained in one video. He knows everything - except for the existence of her baby which she never voiced aloud.

This is the only thing that keeps the vicious words she longs to hurl at him restrained when he closes the laptop and removes it from the bed. Instead, she tries to appeal to him for the sake of her unborn child. "Franco, I still love you. I do. I-I promise. It's just-Jason, he stirs up a lot of old memories and emotions. I don't deny that, but if-if we moved, that would all go away. It would just be me, you, and the boys. I swear. _We can make this work,"_ she pleads frantically with a sincerity she prays he believes.

But he doesn't even look at her. Franco eyes his knife in contemplation before finally locking eyes with her and grinning. “You betrayed me, Elizabeth,” he informs her bluntly, reaching towards her with the knife. 

For a moment, all she can hear is the thundering of her heart and her shrill pleas for him to stop. 

The knife does stop. The tip hooked in the collar of her top. Franco’s eyes are glacial. His smile, gone. “Your daily text messages to Jason,” he ticks off. 

She feels her shirt pull against her skin before the sound of ripping fills the air as the knife slowly cuts through it like butter. Thoughts swarm through her mind, but _no_ is all she can get her mouth to beg. 

He parts her shirt exposing her sports bra before hooking his knife in her bottoms. “You’re little midnight rendezvous,” he continues in a quiet, livid tone, and begins to methodically cut away those too. 

She doesn’t dare move for fear of the sharp blade cutting into her. She feels lightheaded, her mind assaulted with moments from a different time when she was restrained and unable to escape until _he_ was finished. Her head shakes from side to side as her throat burns with emotion and the sudden urge to be sick. _“Please, d-don’t do this.”_

He tosses aside her shredded bottoms, then drags the cool tip of the blade up her belly. 

She freezes altogether, not even breathing. She never said a word about her pregnancy, but she’s terrified he knows. _He's going to take her. He's going to take her. Oh god, he's going to take her away from me._

But when the knife merely climbs up to the bottom of her bra, she takes a shuddering breath and her eyes flick to his. 

He watches her with a lopsided smile before cutting her bra open with a quick jerk of his hand. “And your plan with Carly to leave me today...” 

She squeezes her eyes tight, bracing herself as sobs course through her. “What are you going to do to me?” she whispers in a warbled voice, reopening her eyes. 

He turns and climbs off the bed, moving towards something to the side. She follows him with a hawk like gaze, spotting the camcorder positioned on the dresser pointed right at them - her answer without words. 

After he turns it on, he returns to the bed. He explains anyway while smiling. Always smiling as he steers the knife towards her panties this time. “I’m going to leave Jason a few gifts... His broken woman and the video of exactly how she got that way. He’ll know it was all his fault.” He tugs the knife in a diagonal swipe, cutting open her panties. 

She yelps at the searing pain as he grazes her thigh, then dissolves into full on weeping as he tears off the rest of her underwear, exposing her fully. Blind panic sends her legs kicking and thrashing, heedless of the blade nicking her flesh. It’s like she’s no longer tethered to reality. There’s no pain. No sense of reason. Just overpowering adrenaline driving her to get away from the man who laughs like she’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen while she screams. _“No!_ Someone-someone will come! Carly will realize-! You can’t- _you can’t do this!”_

He fits himself between her legs, trapping her hips to the bed with his weight. He abandons the knife to the side in favor of reaching between them for the fastening of his pants. “You already had your little check in with Jason, so he’s taken care of. And Carly sent a text while you were... indisposed. I sent her a message reassuring her that your precious guards were doing their job.” 

She bucks with a screech, but he chuckles as if her efforts are a mild annoyance. “No one’s coming,” he purrs with a smile of satisfaction. 

Her heart feels seconds from imploding in her tightening chest. The brutal grip of another set of hands holding her down in the snow feel clear as day. The mental snap is physical as she twists and arches away like a woman possessed. _“Get off me! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!”_

Her head snapping to the side from a blow cuts her howl short. Pain starbursts across her vision, and she wails brokenly as she feels his erection pressing against her. 

“You should understand why I’m doing this. You’ve been there yourself. It’s called _playback,”_ he stresses with a sharp grin. His hand brutally clamps over her mouth, the other biting into her hip.

She shuts her eyes and she shrieks.


End file.
